


We're All Mad Here

by reginaromana



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Beige Universe, Episode AU: s04e12 And the Echoes of Memory, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Mental Institutions, Mind Control, Villain Nicole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginaromana/pseuds/reginaromana
Summary: Ms. Nicole Noone, the Director of The Company, was no one's fool. She had built this institution--this whole world, in fact--from the ground up, and she was not going to let some mental patients bring it down. She realized that just locking Eve and Flynn up in the psych ward was not enough; they were a Guardian and a Librarian, after all. Oh no, Nicole was going to have to make sure that any glimmerings of memory they may have were quashed...or turned against them.





	1. This Changes Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I felt that s04e12 ended much too quickly and easily, and this was largely due to Nicole's underestimating Flynn, the LITs, and Eve--whom she really shouldn't have underestimated at all. I tried to fix it.

Eve didn't know how long she had been there. She had no memory of arriving, of any kind of “before.” It felt like she had just woken up in her cell--padded like all the others--having always been there, in that beige hospital.

She had no idea what had brought her there, either. No idea what was wrong with her. No idea of who she even was, beyond her name: Eve. If she thought about it, she could recall her last name: Baird. But that was it. She could remember nothing else.

Which was particularly frustrating given that there was actually one other thing she remembered about herself: that she was supposed to remember something. She didn't know what though, and the discomfort of not knowing gnawed at her night and day. She assumed that was why she was in the hospital; all of her fellow patients struggled with curiosity, with overthinking, with ideas. Eve didn't want to be like the sad, pale sacks she saw all around her. Yet she couldn't let go of the feeling that she was supposed to, had to, remember something. Something important. But she had forgotten whatever it was she was supposed to remember.

That painful fact lay in her gut like metal, making her feel sick and nauseous. She gladly took her meds to help alleviate that feeling, but they made her feel numb, like she was drifting farther and farther away from herself. She gladly went to her group therapy sessions, because they took her mind off the painful aching feeling that she was failing her duty somehow. She wanted to remember whatever it was she was supposed to remember. But she also wanted the pain of that feeling to end. She wanted to forget that she had ever needed to remember something.

But reminders came: a word or phrase from one of the counselors, the face of a man on the television making her laugh, and then, without warning, a man’s voice beside her in the common room.

He spoke rapidly, nonsensically, both his words and his body flitting about seemingly at random, as though he could contain or control neither. Eve could not keep up with his words or even with his movements, but she felt the need to, the desire to. He was like a hummingbird, darting around her, tantalizing her with ideas and thoughts she couldn't--or didn't want to--entertain. And it was all so damned compelling and… familiar.

But it was when their hands met that Eve truly wondered whether she might actually know this strange man, this patient 642, this Flynn. It wasn't like shaking hands with a stranger it all. The moment their fingertips met, a strange, strong sense of HOME washed over her. It was akin to the feeling one gets upon embracing a lover after a long absence, though Eve immediately dismissed that idea as ridiculous; this man was not her lover. She would not forget a lover. She was certain of that. Besides, while she had no memories of her life before arriving at The Company’s Mental Health Institute, she knew she had not been there long, while this man was clearly a long-time inmate. So no, she could not possibly know him. Perhaps he just reminded her of someone or something.

But still, this feeling... this certainty that she knew Flynn did not go away. Her body seemed to know more than she did, her hand refusing to release its grip on his hand.

And strangely enough, this Flynn character seemed to be experiencing something similar. He held on to her hand just as firmly as she held his, turning it over and examining it as though he were searching it for whatever it was his brain was screaming at him that he was sure to find there.

Despite herself, Eve immediately liked him. She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. She liked the way he looked at her, REALLY looked at her. It was like someone was actually seeing her for the first time in days or even weeks. And in spite of his ramblings, he seemed kind, which was something else she hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity.

“You’re nice,” she began hesitantly, needing to acknowledge this feeling of connection she felt with this strange man.

“And cute,” she added, almost as surprised at herself as he seemed to be.

But then, in a split second, reality reasserted itself. Eve didn’t know this man, he was clearly insane, and she should not be seen consorting with him. She instantly adjusted her voice to sound dismissive, letting him know that their conversation was over, and finished with, “And completely crazy,” before turning back to the television.

But he didn't take the hint. If anything, he seemed amused by her brush-off. “Well, two outta three ain’t bad.” Eve decided to ignore him and schooled her face not to smile. “I like your yellow,” he continued, gesturing at her hair, which Eve had, admittedly, thought was unusually bright in color, “and your smile.” At that, she couldn't prevent the corners of her mouth from turning up. She turned to face him again just in time to see his face change from a light, vaguely flirtatious smile to a much more serious, almost pleading expression. “And you remind me of something I don't want to forget.”

Eve felt as though she had been struck by lightning; he also had something he needed to remember. Maybe that was the source of this sense of familiarity: they were both trying to remember. Eve suddenly felt shame for her previous desire to forget. Flynn was trying to remember something, something important, and it had clearly driven him mad in the attempt. Eve sensed that whatever she was supposed to remember was important, possibly even earth-shatteringly so. It was important, and she had been ready to give it up.

“Forget…” Eve found herself murmuring. A tiny corner of her brain shouted at her that she should not be discussing these thoughts with anyone--for all she knew, this Flynn character was actually a member of the Thought Police in disguise, operating even within the confines of the Institute--but Eve ignored that idea. She had some kind of connection with this Flynn; she was sure of it. She liked him, and she trusted him, but more than that, she felt almost compelled to share her thoughts with him. It felt natural, like she had been doing it for years. “I have this feeling there’s something I’m supposed to remember, but I don’t...I don’t know what it is. It’s all fuzzy,” she confessed.

She was not at all surprised to see Flynn nodding almost as soon as she started speaking, acknowledging her feelings as his own. “I remember! I remember what you don’t. I remember my memory,” he said in a whisper.

Eve was right: he was also trying to remember something important! No wonder he felt so familiar and safe and comfortable: they were struggling with the same demons. Maybe he could help her recover little bits and pieces of her own memory.

“They keep trying to take little pieces of it, but I have... the whole! And that’s what keeps it alive!” he ended in a sing-song voice.

“Keeps what alive?” Eve asked in a quiet breath, leaning into Flynn. Bells were going off in her head, as though screaming, _This is it! This is what you’re looking for! You are so close to your answers!_

It was at that moment--of course--that Flynn’s attention shifted to a large orderly that had just walked in. “Hold that thought,” he said in a tone of serious command. It was the tone of a normal, rational man who was used to knowing what he was doing. It was not the tone of a crazy man discussing impossible memories.

For an instant--just an instant--fear crept into Eve. Perhaps he was a member of the Thought Police!

That idea faded as the orderly looked right at Flynn and demanded, “Hey, what are you doing?” in a tone that suggested that he was used to--and tired of--Flynn’s shenanigans.

At that moment, Flynn seemed to change again, letting out a crazy shout that, in the wake of their conversation, seemed calculated to Eve, as though he were now playing up the part of a crazy man for the benefit of the orderly.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the orderly said, and suddenly, Eve realized that she had never seen Flynn before. He was not a Level 2 patient like her; he had escaped from elsewhere in the hospital.

More semi-crazed shouting came from beside her, followed by a whispered, serious, “Eve, if you want to remember, find me.”

Eve didn’t know who this Flynn was, what he remembered, or how he could help her, but at that moment, she knew that he was not as crazy as he appeared to be and that she was going to go find him.

“You know what this means, right? You’ll gonna have to go for a reset,” the orderly said. Eve winced. She did not know if she had been reset herself, though her lack of memory suggested that she had. But many of her fellow patients had been reset. Poor Victoria, who had just been dragged out minutes earlier, was probably being reset even now. Victoria was harmless, thus her placement of Level 2, but her constant curiosity and need to wonder things had led to many resets for her. Eve suspected that she would be moved to Level 3 after her outburst today.

Eve was pulled back to the scene in front of her as Flynn stood to face down three orderlies. With that kind of muscle, he was clearly an escapee from another level of the Institute--maybe even from Level 4. If so, should she have felt fear in his presence? Patients on Level 4 were deeply psychotic and were often a danger to themselves or others. They were heavily monitored and were housed in a basement level. Eve immediately dismissed the idea; Flynn was harmless. Besides, if he were from that deep a level, there is no way he could have evaded his minders enough to make it all the way up to Level 2. No, he must simply be from Level 3 upstairs.

Eve braced herself for some sort of confrontation. And there was one, but it was unlike anything she had prepared herself for. Flynn again darted and danced around the room, using people and furniture and even the light fixture as props in his mad ballet. He wasn’t so much trying to escape as… entertain himself. He was having fun.

As Eve watched his antics, she felt a laugh bubble up from within her. It wasn’t like the bare, dry, vaguely amused laugh she had emitted earlier while watching _I Fell Down_. This laughter seemed to come to her from a deeper, more emotional place. Instead of the base comedy of people falling, this amusement was grounded in Flynn’s cleverness with his use of his surroundings, the confusion of everyone else witnessing it, and... something else. What was it?

Eve had her answer soon enough. As Flynn was dragged away--making it a part of his act, a grand exit--all of his attention was directed at her. His smile, his dancing eyes, his dramatic gestures, even his calling out his number, as though she could possibly forget him, were all for her. Even as he was dragged away, he was smiling at her as though she were the sun in this bland, sepia-toned universe, and Eve realized what she was feeling for this madman: affection. After only a few minutes of conversation, she felt affection for him. That fact, combined with his urging her to find him if she wanted to remember, confirmed for her that she was about to do something incredibly, incredibly stupid and dangerous. It made her feel more alive and at home than she had felt in some time.

Her mind came more alive, and Eve suddenly found herself surreptitiously watching all of the common room entrances and exits, the orderlies, the staff members, even the other patients with a degree of vigilance she hadn’t known she possessed. All the while, she tried to make herself unnoticeable and unremarkable. She turned the TV back on and pretended to watch, laughing emptily at all the right queues. She would wait until things had calmed down after Flynn’s antics and the staff was no longer hypervigilant. Then she would make her move.

Calculating how long it would take them to get to the reset room, set everything up, and do the procedure, Eve calculated that Flynn would be in the reset room for about twenty minutes. If she left the common room in fifteen, she would have plenty of time to get there and see where they took Flynn after his reset.

After her allotted fifteen minutes, Eve left her seat on the couch and casually made her way to the restroom just outside the common room. As a Level 2 patient, Eve had free access to much of the second floor, so she didn’t have to ask permission. She also knew that there was a stairwell just beyond the ladies’ room that she wasn’t allowed to enter, but it wasn’t protected by a keycard lock like the elevators were.

Just as Eve crossed the threshold from the second-floor common room into the hallway, she was brought up short by the sight of a tall, hulking orderly blocking her path. “Patient 262?” he addressed her. “I’m going to need you to come with me.”

Thwarted, Eve had no choice but to go along with the man. He led her to the elevators and used his key card to take her down to the Institute’s ground floor. Patients generally weren’t allowed there; these were the public offices reserved for the staff, allowing them to get away from The Crazies housed above and below them.

Eve’s fear that Flynn’s attention had, in turn, prompted attention from administration seemed to be confirmed when the orderly led her to the Institute's director’s office. Eve had never spoken to Dr. Goodwill, but she had seen him talking with various doctors, counselors, and other staff members. Would she be downgraded from the relative freedoms of Level 2? That would make it much more difficult for her to find Flynn.

As all of these thoughts raced through Eve’s increasingly panicked brain, she was surprised to find Dr. Goodwill’s office empty when she entered. Turning to the orderly to ask him what was going on, he cut her questions off with “Have a seat. It will just be a few minutes.”

Mentally shrugging, Eve took a seat in one of the cream-colored chairs in front of Dr. Goodwill’s desk, which seemed to have been designed with function in mind, rather than comfort. The orderly stood behind her, beside the door. Eve didn’t turn to look back at him, but she could sense his gaze on the back of her neck. Defensive responses she didn’t even know she had seemed to rise within her, and she unconsciously tensed for an attack.

Five minutes later, the office door swung up. Eve turned in her seat, prepared to ask Dr. Goodwill what was going on, but was brought up short by the sight of the Director of The Company herself, Ms. Nicole Noone, walk in.

“Hello Eve, dear. I hear that you’ve had quite the adventure today,” she said with a sweet smile.


	2. Plans Within Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forestalling Eve's attempt to find and rescue Flynn, Nicole has a little chat with her fellow former Guardian and pushes her own agenda... through any means necessary.
> 
> Basically, this is where we start to get away from what actually happened in the episode, and more into Nicole being the manipulative villain (I feel) she should have been.

For a moment, Eve didn’t know how to respond; she simply couldn’t understand, couldn't even imagine why the Director herself was meeting with her.

 

This was the second time Ms. Noone had visited Eve at the Institute; both times, Eve was at a loss for words. The Director simply didn’t visit people; she didn’t even appear in public. In fact, now that she thought about it, Eve wasn’t even entirely sure how she recognized this blonde woman in front of her as the Director. _Was_ she even the Director?

 

Ms. Noone took Eve’s stunned silence in stride and took the opportunity to round Dr. Goodwill’s desk and take a seat behind it. “You can wait outside, Derek,” she addressed the orderly. “Ms. Baird and I are old friends,” here she spared an almost mocking smile for Eve, “and we have some things to discuss.” Her voice was silky smooth, polished, and professional, but seemed to hint at hidden depths of venom.

 

The blonde woman’s expression set Eve on edge. She seemed to be smiling at her pleasantly enough, but there was a suggestion of mockery that angered Eve. It was much like the expression she had worn when she had first visited Eve in the Institution--at least, Eve thought it was the first time. At that visit though, the mockery was much more evident. Her smile and laugh had been cruel, and Eve had not understood any of the things she had said--not that she could remember them clearly now. It was all another thing Eve couldn’t remember, another scene from her past that was cloudy and hazy.

 

At Eve’s continued confused silence, Ms. Noone sighed. “Eve dear, you needn't be so cautious. I know all about your little tête-à-tête with patient 642. You’re not in any trouble. I just want to make sure you’re okay. After all, he’s a dangerous man.”

 

“Dangerous?” Eve squeaked. Flynn hadn’t seemed dangerous.

 

“Oh my, yes,” Ms. Noone said seriously, leaning forward and clasping her hands on top of the desk. All traces of a smile had fled from her face. “There is a reason he’s here, after all. There’s a reason he’s normally kept in isolation, away from the general hospital population.” She paused and searched Eve’s face, as though looking for any kind of reaction. Fortunately for Eve, her meds kept her emotions in check and dulled, so she didn’t have to do much to school her face into total blankness. Seemingly satisfied that Eve showed no signs of arguing on patient 642’s behalf, Ms. Noone continued, “He’s quite mad, you know. I’m sure you could tell that from even your brief chat--you’ve always been a bright girl, after all. He spreads dangerous ideas, dangerous rumors, dangerous lies. He has a tendency to escape and wander around. The last patient he spoke to for more than a minute or two ended up having a fit soon after and had to be reset and sent to Level 3. I know he spoke to you, and so I wanted to make sure that you were all right, that he hadn’t spread any dangerous...doubts to you.”

 

Eve’s head spun with thoughts, fears, ideas, and doubts, all of them dangerous. When she had been sitting beside Flynn on the couch, he had seemed more real, more sane, and more logical than anything or anyone had in… well, in quite a while. But now, sitting in this tidy office that smelled of cleaning product, before the stylishly, sharply dressed Director--who also, somehow, seemed familiar--the rumpled, manic man who smelled of perspiration, needed a shave, and wore a sock around his neck did indeed seem crazy by comparison. Besides, who was Eve to doubt the Director of The Company herself?

 

“He did seem a little...scattered,” Eve allowed slowly.

 

“Droning on about his _dreams_?” Ms. Noone prompted, her eyebrows raising suggestively.

 

At that, Eve looked down at her own hands, folded in her lap. “Dreams are illegal,” she intoned immediately. She could sense that she was on thin ice. She had been observed consorting with a man who talked about dreams, a man who was labeled dangerous by the Director of The Company herself.

 

“Yes, my dear, they are. But crazy men such as Fly...such as patient 642,” she corrected herself, “do not care about the law. They don’t care about the well-being of others. They care only about themselves, giving no thought to the pain and disruption they cause others.

 

“And right now,” the Director continued, leaning forward toward Eve and extending one hand across the desk toward her, “right now, I’m worried about the pain and disruption he may have caused _you_.”

 

Eve didn’t know how to respond. She found herself longing for the comfort of her padded cell and her nightly dose of medications that allowed her to sleep a deep, _dreamless_ sleep. She was growing increasingly confused and overstimulated with ideas. Her mind had been silent and placid for so long that all of these sudden questions and thoughts and possibilities disoriented her. The pain of not remembering what she was certain she needed to remember did indeed burn clearer now that Flynn had offered the tantalizing possibility of being able to help her remember.

 

Eve felt like she was drowning in thoughts and feelings, ideas and emotions. The world seemed to spin around her, her ears rang, and she just wanted to hide from all of the chaos that spun in her mind. In all of this confusion, Eve shut her eyes and focused on her breathing for one breath, two breaths, three breaths.

 

She was only vaguely aware of Ms. Noone getting up from behind the desk, walking across the room to a side table, and pouring a liquid from a carafe into a glass. Time seemed to stand still as Eve focused only on steadying her breathing until her head no longer swam; as a result, she didn’t notice how long Ms. Noone stood at that side table, pouring and stirring something in a glass.

 

When Eve opened her eyes again, Ms. Noone was sitting beside her in the other decidedly uncomfortable cream-colored chair. She found herself gazing at the strange charm that hung on a chain around the Director’s neck.  _This is important._ The thought rose unbidden in Eve’s mind. She didn’t know why or how, but she knew it was true.

 

Just as she was about to file that thought away carefully to analyze later in the privacy of her cell, the Director held out a glass of water to her. “Here, drink this, Eve dear,” she said softly.

 

Still somewhat unsteady, Eve accepted the proffered glass without a second thought and gulped the cold liquid greedily. She was surprised by how metallic the water tasted compared to what she got upstairs.

 

After a moment, Ms, Noone asked, “Eve dear,  _are_ you alright?”

 

Without thinking, Eve burst out, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

At that, Ms. Noone’s eyes softened, and she gave Eve a soft smile. It would have been a warm smile if Eve hadn’t felt a chill behind it. “Oh, I really shouldn’t have laughed at you when I came to visit you a few days ago. But your expression was just so  _funny_ that I couldn’t quite help myself. You looked like a deer caught in the headlights!” the Director said, leaning back in her chair. Her tone was lighthearted, like that of one good friend chatting casually with another.

 

“Do I…do I know you?” Eve asked. There was certainly something familiar about this woman, but not in the same way that there had been something familiar about Flynn. Almost everything about Flynn had reminded her of something… something she didn’t want to forget, as he had said himself. His fidgeting, his manic speech, his smile, his voice, his touch, even the flower pinned to his bathrobe that had evidently been made out of Q-tips and the paper cups their meds came in--everything about him had made her feel like she had finally come home after a long, long time away. With Ms. Noone, the familiarity was different, like remembering what it feels like to be bitten by a snake when you see one again years later. It was not a familiarity she trusted, no matter how many “Eve dear”s she threw around.

 

At Eve’s question, the Director reached out and took both of Eve’s hands in her own. Her expression was sincere as she said, “Yes, Eve dear. We know each other quite well. Do you really not remember me at all?” Her eyes searched Eve’s. “Not even our adventure across Europe together? It was only a few weeks ago.”

 

Eve began to feel dizzy again and was drawn into the depths of Ms. Noone’s eyes, as though she couldn’t look away. Eve found herself searching what remained of her memory, trying to find anything that might validate the suddenly serious tone of the Director’s voice. Eve sensed that all pretense and teasing had been dropped, that the woman before her was actually pleading with her to remember something that mattered to her, mattered to them both. But Eve remembered nothing. Plus, she still couldn’t shake the sense of distrust that coiled in the pit of her stomach.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.” Eve paused for a moment, then realized something important. “But maybe if you could tell me who I am, I might be able to remember more.”

 

Ms. Noone nodded. “That’s the spirit!” she squeezed Eve’s hands as she spoke, the released them. They tingled strangely. “We’ll have you back in shape in no time!” Then the Director dropped Eve’s hands and leaned back in her chair. “Eve dear, you’re a guardian.”

 

At the word, parts of Eve’s brain seemed to light up, even as other parts went dark without her noticing. _Yes, a guardian, of course! That’s what I am!_ The title felt right, more right than anything had felt in ages.  _How could I have forgotten?_

 

Ms. Noone continued, “ _My_ guardian, to be precise. You guard me, protect me, defend me from anything and everything. Surely, you haven’t lost those instincts?”

 

Eve found herself shaking her head in the negative. Whatever had happened to land her here, she still felt a natural desire to protect others. Perhaps that was what had actually attracted her to Flynn, she rationalized--he did seem rather helpless and in need of defending, even if only from himself.

 

“I didn’t think so,” Ms. Noone said smoothly. Her smile was back in place, as though it had been pasted on. “You and I have a great deal in common. We’ve fought, and we’ve worked together, and we’ve been friends of sorts. We even shared a man at one point, though he was not worthy of either of us.”

 

Eve realized that she was nodding again, and the tingling in her hands had moved up her arms.  _It’s just a stress reaction_ , she told herself. _Focus! The Director can help me remember._

 

Everything Ms. Noone was saying sounded correct; it did not feel like a lie. She could not conjure any of the memories or images she spoke of, but so much of it  _felt_ like the truth that Eve was ready to believe it.

 

“What...what happened? How did I end up here?” Eve stammered. It must have been serious for her to have gone from being the Director’s guardian to a Level 2 patient at the Institute.

 

“Ah, don’t worry about that, Eve dear. Just remember: what you already know is enough. Focusing on your problems will only make them worse. I want you to focus on getting better, on clearing your mind, and on getting back to work...with me. Can you do that?” the Director asked, her voice as smooth as silk. The familiar mantra, ‘What you already know is enough,’ soothed Eve, even as the tingling sensation washed over her body in waves.

 

She was suddenly struck with much worse dizziness than before, as everything around her rocked and spun. The metallic taste of the water had grown stronger until it was all she could taste or smell. It seemed to ring in her blood, and she felt cold all over. Eve closed her eyes again.

 

“Eve dear, are you all right?” the Director’s voice seemed to come from very far away.

 

“I… I don’t know. I don’t feel well,” Eve managed.

 

The other woman sighed. “This is all patient 642’s fault. You’re having a stress reaction, brought on by the dangerous, manipulative ideas he conveyed. You just need to get some rest and forget all about him. You’ll feel better after that.”

 

Through a haze, the thought arose, unbidden,  _The Director’s right_. All of this trying to remember had only caused her pain. Better to let it all go, to forget. Eve didn’t want to be here, in the Institute. She didn’t want to end up like Flynn, ranting and raving in his pajamas to strangers. She didn’t belong here and didn’t want to belong here. She wanted to be back out in the world, doing things, guarding things.

 

Rallying herself, Eve opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head, as though to clear away all of these thoughts. “Yes,” she said to the Director with a smile, “you’re right, Ms. Noone. Of course.” The response felt good, felt right, and some of the haze cleared from her mind.

 

“ _Nicole_ ,” the Director said with an answering smile that actually made it all the way to her eyes.

 

Before Eve could respond, a blaring klaxon alarm broke the quiet peace of the office. She had never heard such an alarm before; perhaps it didn’t go off on the second floor, where keeping the patients calm was of paramount importance. She covered her ears and found herself folding into herself, as though trying to protect herself from the assaulting noise. In her dizzy, confused state, something about the alarm was familiar, triggering a sense of… doom within Eve. She hated that sound. It made her want to weep at her own weakness and failure. But what weakness? What failure? Eve didn’t know.

 

Ms. Noone--Nicole--placed a gentle hand on Eve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to end our little chat, Eve dear, but it seems that my next appointment is here.” With that, she rose and walked to the office door, swinging it wide, which only increased the volume of the blaring klaxon outside.

 

“Derek,” she addressed the waiting orderly just outside the door, “please take patient 262 back to the Level 2 facilities. And--” here, Nicole leaned closer to the waiting orderly and pitched her voice lower, saying something that Eve could not hear over the alarm that continued to assault her raw senses.

 

The orderly nodded, and Nicole turned back to Eve. She gently drew the other woman up and out of her chair. “Take care of yourself, my dear,” she said, her voice just barely audible over the painful sirens. “I need you back at my side.” Eve nodded, but the movement threw her off balance and caused her to stagger. The world swam before her eyes.

 

Derek and another orderly who had seemed to appear from nowhere supported Eve as she stumbled toward the elevator. It was like walking aboard a ship at sea in a storm, the ground rising and falling away from her feet. Everything tasted and smelled of metal, the world was rapidly becoming blurry and dark, her body felt tingly and cold, and the klaxon alarm beat into her soul like a fierce drum. For some reason she couldn’t understand, Eve started clapping, trying to turn it off. When that didn’t work, she started laughing. “Jenkins, turn that thing off,” she babbled between bouts of giddy laughter. She didn’t make it all the way to the elevator before the world spun out of control and then went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything and everything is appreciated!


	3. Hell Hath No Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole Noone, the Director of The Company, believes that one of her greatest strengths is her ability to turn potential problems into potential advantages. Now, she is committed to turning the problem that is Eve Baird to her own advantage.

As Eve was escorted away, already stumbling from the side-effects of the potion Nicole had slipped her, the well-dressed woman allowed the carefully crafted smile to melt from her face. This was going to be a little more difficult than she had initially anticipated, but the results, oh, the results were going to be so very worth it!

 

Nicole’s difficulties had started with Flynn, as they so often did. Ever the Librarian, he just couldn't curb his ideas, his questions, his dreams, even in a world where those things were taboo. She could have had him permanently reset--as Dr. Goodwill was constantly urging--or even eliminated entirely, but Nicole still bore some small spark of affection for him. She just couldn't bear to see those things that made Flynn Flynn be wiped out forever. So she had put up with his eccentricities and occasional trouble-making. After all, they didn't really do any harm, and after a busy day of running the world, hearing about Flynn’s latest escapade at the Institute was always amusing.

 

But then Baird had started stirring up trouble throughout The Company, reaching out to the other Librarians, recruiting them--for what, exactly? Nicole still wasn't sure what the other woman’s plan had been; if she even had a plan at all. Were they planning to break Flynn out? Stage a coup against Nicole? They certainly couldn’t have found a way to bring back the Library; that was impossible. Still, Nicole had had no choice but to bring Baird in.

 

Nicole had initially toyed with the idea of simply killing the other woman, eliminating her once and for all. It was tempting, too. But she ultimately dismissed the idea as a bit too barbaric; after all, The Company was a kind and beneficent organization. It took care of people, even difficult people like Baird. So Nicole had decided to have her reset and dumped here, in The Company’s Mental Health Institute. And, oh, was she pleased with that decision!

 

To see the  _ great  _ Eve Baird; the wonderful,  _ perfect  _ Colonel Baird; the gee-whiz-isn’t-she-amazing, can-do-no-wrong Baird reduced to this, to being empty and blank and dull and lifeless, was more satisfying than Nicole could have imagined.

 

When Flynn and his posse had first tramped down into her cellar dungeon, Nicole had not been jealous of his relationship with his new Guardian. She had had several hundred years to get over him and get on with her life, which also happened to involve ruining his. Granted, it had been a bit of a shock to see how quickly and easily he had gotten over her loss. The last time she had seen him, he had been calling out to her, his eyes and voice full of fear and panic and dread and regret and loss. Now, here he was, only a few years later in his timeline, in a relationship with a new Guardian that was apparently serious enough that he was ready to tether to the Library with her forever. No wonder he had never come back for her. None of this was Baird’s fault; no, this was Flynn. Fickle, faithless Flynn.

 

No, Nicole resented Baird for everything she was, beyond any relationship she had with Flynn. Baird was respected and beloved, listened to and embraced by everyone in the Library. Baird was no mere Guardian of the Library and its Librarians in a physical sense; she also protected and tended to their emotional needs, being so damn nurturing it made Nicole sick. Baird’s den mother act, her holding the others together when Flynn had “abandoned” them, was impressive, though it did mean that Nicole’s plans took a little longer to come to fruition. At the end of the day, Nicole had to admit it: Baird had been a damn good Guardian, possibly the best there had ever been in the history of the Library.

 

So not only was Flynn in love with Baird in a way he had never been in love with her. Not only did the other Librarians hang on her every word. Not only did Jenkins--grumpy, disagreeable Jenkins, who hated everyone--adore her. But the Library itself, the Library that had rejected and abandoned Nicole, loved Colonel Eve Baird. She was going to tether with Flynn and the Library, becoming a part of it forever, while Nicole had been swept aside by the Library like so much garbage.

 

And she hated her for it.

 

And now the great Colonel Eve Baird, the best Guardian in the history of the Library, was nothing. When Nicole had looked in her eyes, there was nothing there but confusion and emptiness. The sight filled Nicole with glee. 

 

Nicole had originally simply planned to warehouse both Flynn and Baird away here in the Institute forever. Unfortunately, Flynn still had a way of bumbling everything up into somehow making it all work out in his favor. At first, his predilection for escaping and wandering around the Institute had been amusing--so very Flynn. It was something to be tolerated and dealt with. But when Baird became patient 262, Nicole had recognized that Flynn’s previously endearing escape-artist tendencies had the potential to threaten everything she had worked so hard for. After all, he was a Librarian, she was a Guardian, and they shared an annoyingly strong bond that transcended their roles in the Library. Of course, he was going to end up finding her; of course, he was going to talk to her; and of course, she was going to be instantly swayed by him.

 

Since her arrival, Baird had appeared to be pliable and obedient--likely a remnant of her long military training. She had willingly taken all of her medications, gone to group and individual therapy, peaceably watched TV in the Level 2 common lounge, and returned to her padded cell each night to sleep a deep, dreamless sleep bolstered by more medications. On her own, she likely wouldn’t be a problem, and she would grow old and die on Level 2, always physically comfortable and taken care of, if mentally and emotionally numb and drifting ever further away from herself until she was a mere husk of the woman she had been. Nicole had looked forward to visiting Baird over the coming years, watching her become less and less of who she had been, while Nicole became more and more of what she had always been meant to be.

 

But Nicole knew that even a chance encounter with another Librarian--especially if it were Flynn--would change all that, and it appeared that it already had. After barely ten minutes’ conversation, Baird was suddenly seizing the initiative, almost certainly going off in search of him, to rescue her Librarian in typical Guardian fashion. Nicole was glad that she had had the foresight to forestall such an event.

 

It was going to take some work on her part, but Nicole now realized that this problem had actually created an opportunity for herself. A part of Baird still responded positively to authority, and in this world, Nicole was The Authority. She would use that to her advantage, combined with a few well-placed half-truths. She would make the Guardian her own, twisting the knife she had lodged in the Library’s back, which now existed only in her own memory.

 

_ My Guardian! Ha! The irony is too, too perfect _ , Nicole thought to herself.

 

Even more delicious, it felt like an even more complete revenge on Flynn than what she had previously planned. Flynn had abandoned her. He had not come for her in the past. And so Nicole had stopped waiting for him and started looking for ways to hurt him the way he had hurt her. She hated him in the way a person can only hate that which they once loved. Flynn somehow remembered Baird; of that, Nicole was certain. Why else would he make a beeline straight to her? He was now waiting for her to come rescue him--the heroic Guardian rushing in to save the Librarian. Nicole would not let that happen. Baird was a blank slate, and Nicole fully intended to write all over it. Baird would be hers, and Flynn would know what it feels like to so wholly abandoned, the way he had abandoned her.

 

As soon as Baird and the orderlies had turned the corner and passed out of her vision, Nicole turned on her commlink, connecting her directly to the Institute’s head of security. The second they were connected, before he could even say a word, Nicole snapped, “Turn that alarm off instantly, you fool! Do you want to send the entire building into an uproar?”

 

The man mumbled an apology, and within a few seconds, the alarms were turned off. “Ma’am, we’ve captured intruders, just as you anticipated we would. There are--”

 

“Three of them. Yes, I know,” Nicole cut the man’s babbling off. “Send them to the reset room and have Dr. Goodwill reset all of them. Then assign them to Level 6, in full isolation. I do not want them interacting with the rest of the hospital population, with each other, with patient 642, or with patient 262. Is that clear?”

 

“Yes--yes, Director,” the man stuttered.

 

“Good,” she said more evenly, though still with a level of steel in her voice. “I’ll be there shortly.”

 

Ending the call, Nicole pulled a small glass vial, now only half full of a shimmering white powder, from her jacket pocket and made sure the lid was again firmly in place. There was no sense in spilling the difficult-to-produce obedience potion through carelessness. After all, “dear Eve” might need a second dose.

 

Of course, in this world, where magic didn’t exist, it was a carefully controlled medication, not a magic potion. However, Nicole’s memories of hundreds of years of dealing with magic and magical beings sometimes yielded helpful information, such as the knowledge of how to make this particular potion.

 

The obedience potion wasn’t really an obedience potion, per se. It didn’t give Nicole complete control over Baird; rather, it rendered the other woman highly suggestible and made her want to do others’ bidding. Nicole didn’t anticipate having to use it forever. She just needed it long enough for Baird to overcome any potential resistance towards or negative feelings she may have had for the Director. After that, she was sure the former colonel’s natural loyalty would kick in.

 

_ So much for The Great Colonel Eve Baird, Guardian par excellence! _

 

Putting the glass vial back in her pocket, Nicole set off for the elevators at a full stride. She had other, less enjoyable, business to attend to in the reset room.

 

These other Librarians were going to be a problem, and Nicole knew it. She was glad that she had had the foresight to predict that they would attempt to break Baird out of the Institute and that she had taken the precaution of posting extra guards to stop and apprehend them. But now that she had captured them, she was going to have to do something with them. It was bad enough having Flynn causing so much trouble, but now she had three more to deal with as well. Why, oh  _ why _ , were there four of them? One Librarian was insufferable enough; how had Eve handled four of them?

 

Nicole allowed herself a brief moment of grudging respect for her fellow former-Guardian. During her own time as a Guardian, just keeping one Librarian alive and on-track had seemed like a monumental task. Eve had somehow done the same for four of them, and for four years at that--more than double the average tenure for Librarians. As much as she hated and resented Baird, she had to respect that level of dedication and tenacity.

 

_ And now she’s mine _ , Nicole thought. The corners of her mouth turned up into a self-satisfied smile as she entered the cell just across the hall from the reset room. Its three occupants all turned to face her, while the three guards who had brought them in stood by impassively, waiting for their orders.

 

“My, my, my, what have we here?” Nicole purred at the three ex-Librarians.


	4. A Dangerous Madman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizing that one of the people in his dreams--Eve--is real, Flynn discovers that he may not be as crazy as he thought. For the first time, he has hope that maybe this world is not actually the way it's supposed to be and that he can actually change things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in between chapters; life has gotten in the way! Hopefully, after next week, I'll be able to wrap this up.

Flynn woke in a cold sweat to the sound of an alarm blaring. He was back in his cell, as he always found himself after another reset. All of his muscles ached, his jaw was so sore he was sure he would barely be able to chew later, he stank of perspiration, his pajamas were soaked through, and his hair was damp. The usual after a reset. At least they hadn't crushed his carnation this time.

After a few moments, the alarm shut off. He was curious as to what it meant--usually, it only went off in his honor, heralding yet another of his glorious, brilliant plans--but he would turn to that puzzle after he took care of more urgent business.

Flynn lay still, conducting a mental inventory, checking to see what they had taken from him this time and what had been shuffled in to take its place. They didn’t really understand that they couldn’t simply wipe his mind clean like a slate--at least, not without the “permanent procedure” Dr. Goodwill kept pushing for. Memory didn't work like that. Sooner or later, it would all float back to the surface again, just rearranged.

The redhead’s face was gone now, but it was replaced with a name: Cassandra. He would have to write that down after the coast was clear.

He could clearly picture the compass design on the floor now--the floor of the Annex. It had been a blurry shape floating just on the edge of his awareness of the room for as long as he had been able to picture it--the room that felt more like home than any place he had known in this life. He would have to draw the design and add it to his dream wall.

Charlene’s face was gone--no matter, he had already drawn it a few times--but his mother’s face had returned yet again. She and Charlene seemed to float in and out of his mind, trading places with one another. Flynn had no memory of his mother in this world.

He flexed his fingers and felt certain that he still had his swordplay skills, but he was equally sure that he now knew less about parallel universes--which was a shame because that was Flynn’s primary theory as to what was going on here. He was going to need that information if he was going to figure this out someday. Oh well, it would likely come back in a few resets. (And knowing his own proclivity for getting into trouble, he was certain there would be more resets.) Flynn had gained and lost his knowledge of Latin more times than he could count at this point. He was still on a Latin-less cycle, it seemed.

He had so many things he needed to record as quickly as possible, but he knew that the orderlies always checked on him about fifteen minutes after his reset, which meant he usually had about five minutes after waking to review and reorganize his mental map of who he was in this world; who he was in that other, parallel dream world; and what more he knew of it. Then, after they left, he would pull out the scraps of paper and pencils he had stolen over time and secreted away in his mattress, and update his map of that dream world.

Flynn didn’t know how long he had been Nicole’s “guest” at the Institute. Honestly, he didn’t even know what the Institute was, who Nicole was, or how he knew her. He just knew that he did and that their relationship--such as it was--was a longstanding and complicated one. She appeared in his dreams in bits and pieces, scraps really, but they were so scattered, he could make little sense of them. He had drawn a picture of a much younger her once--she looked much more innocent then, and yet it seemed like she was trying to put up a tough facade. The Nicole he knew now, in this universe, looked more polished, but the image she was trying to convey was one of innocence and goodwill. He was never fooled by that pretense, but the few glimpses of the younger, more vulnerable her he had seen in his dreams made him wonder what had happened to change her so drastically. Had it merely been time, or was it the difference between the worlds themselves? Flynn could never be certain.

Right on time, he heard the door handle of his cell turn. Flynn threw his left arm over his eyes, as though to shield them from the light in the room, and let out a low groan.

“Hey, Flynn. How are you doing?” the orderly, Jason asked. Jason was “his” orderly, and really, he wasn’t a bad guy. He wasn’t mean-spirited or abusive like some of the other orderlies, and he put up with Flynn’s antics with a surprising amount of goodwill, especially considering that he was probably reprimanded every time Flynn escaped or caused trouble. Which was often. After all, Flynn was terminally bored.

In response, Flynn just groaned again.

Jason approached, took Flynn’s pulse, pushed his arm aside to shine a light on his pupils, and then stepped back. “Yeah, you’re okay. You really need to stop doing this, man. This many resets can’t be good for a person.”

Flynn threw both arms over his face and grunted. The beaten-down, miserable, and in-pain act always earned him his privacy much faster than anything else.

“Get some rest,” Jason said, stepping toward the door and banging on it twice to be let out by his fellow outside, “let me know if you need to use the bathroom later.”

With that, he was gone. Flynn lay still for exactly two minutes and thirty-eight seconds--the exact amount of time it took the orderlies to secure his door, walk down the hallway, around the corner, enter their office, and close that door--counting the moments as they ticked past. Then, he leaped out of bed, pulled the paper and pencils from his mattress, and set about recording his newest rotation of dreams and memories. He worked silently for many long minutes, labeling existing drawings hidden behind the padding on his cell wall and sketching several new ones. Once he had added and updated everything he could, he stepped back from the wall to inspect his work and see if any new clues about this parallel world revealed themselves.

As his eyes fell upon the section of his wall devoted to the blonde woman with no name who had appeared in his dreams so often and with such force, Flynn’s eyes popped open in wonder and recognition. _It’s her--the new one! It’s Eve!_

One of the side-effects of being reset was that it often temporarily erased all memory of what had transpired shortly before the reset itself. Sometimes, that memory was lost forever, which was probably why Flynn frequently got in trouble for doing the same things over and over again--he couldn’t remember doing them. But now, all his memories of the past hour washed back over him: his latest brilliant escape attempt, his decision to mosey on up to Level 2 to watch some TV, and his meeting with the new woman, the woman with all the yellow in her hair, the woman named Eve Baird, all because her face was the face of the woman who had been haunting his dreams for as long as he could remember.

Looking at his drawings of her and now having seen the original, Flynn was able to see that his limited artistic skill had done a poor job of reproducing her face. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t recognized her immediately--he had stared at the drawings far more often than at the real thing. Besides, even in his dreams, she had always been somewhat blurry, just like everything he dreamed. But she was one of only two things that had never fully disappeared. The other was the Library.

He had seen her covered in blood, her own blood, as she slumped into his arms and shadows began to gather in her eyes. He had seen those same eyes glitter with laughter as the two of them walked hand-in-hand through the most colorful market he had ever seen, as he told her a story, while vast mountains towered in the background. He had seen her eyes take on a serious, focused, almost steely expression as she leveled a gun at a man dressed in black who glowered at her menacingly in return. He had seen her eyes slip closed and her lips part in ecstasy beneath him in a darkened bedroom as she whispered his name. He had seen her glare at him in genuine anger and hurt, her eyes becoming hard and dangerous like a sea during a storm. He had seen tears slip from her eyes, betraying the pain and heartbreak she felt, as she begged him to come back from the other side of a deep chasm he couldn't possibly cross. And he had seen her walk toward him, dressed in a white satin gown and floor-length cloak, looking more beautiful than he had ever seen anything look in his entire life, her eyes dancing with joy.

And today he had seen those exact same eyes look at him--this universe’s Flynn, not that other, better, saner, dream-world Flynn--with slowly dawning recognition.

As the details of their encounter in the Level 2 common room came back, Flynn grew increasingly excited. _She remembers, too! She’s trying to remember!_

Thoughts, possibilities, and ideas screamed through Flynn’s head. Not only was it possible that the literal woman of his dreams might have dreamt of him as well, it suggested that he was not alone anymore in this miserable, beige world.

For as long as he could remember, Flynn had felt different, like an outcast. He could never control the questions and ideas and dreams that flew through his mind at a million miles per hour. Even as a child, he could not blend in and hide his difference. He was alone. He had always been alone.

He had started dreaming about the Library as a child. As the years passed, the dreams--and the Library--became populated: first Judson, then Charlene, and then the blonde woman. Eve. She was quickly followed by the redhead, the cowboy, the thief, and the old knight. Others came and went as well, but this cast of characters remained constant.

These people in his dreams had been his only friends, even when he couldn’t recall their faces or their names. They made him feel less alone, but they didn’t change the fact that in this dull waking world, he was alone.

But not anymore. Now, he had found one of them. And not just any one of them, but Eve, the most important one of them all. And she was trying to remember, too, which meant that maybe, just maybe, Flynn wasn’t insane. Maybe it really was real. Maybe there was hope, a way to reach that world. And if Eve was real, maybe the others were as well. And maybe they also remembered. He would help her remember whatever it was she was trying to remember--and based on how she had looked at him, Flynn was certain it was him and the Library--and together, they would figure out what to do next.

Drawn out of his manic, racing thoughts, he looked again at the numerous sketches he had made of her. Now that he had seen this universe’s Eve, all of the dreams and memories he had ever had of the parallel Eve came racing back into his mind and in sharper focus than they had ever been before. It was so clear, it was almost painful.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and labeled each drawing, “Eve Baird.”

His eyes shifted down to his favorite drawing; unfortunately, it was also the least clear in his memory. He wasn’t even sure who it depicted, though he had long hoped that it was parallel him and the parallel blonde woman whom he now knew to be Eve. But he just wasn’t sure. The image of the man and the woman dancing, the woman wearing a green dress--the hue more vibrant than any he had ever seen in real life--had always seemed to come through frosted-glass, their forms hazy and indistinct. Yet despite the blurriness of the images, he had always associated this image with the feeling of being alive. The dancing figures had always struck him as being bursting with life, yet dancing around--in the face of--death. Life, death, love, lust, danger, and so much more came through that image of the dancing figures. It was a dream memory that had been wiped in one of his first resets and had never returned, but he still had the drawing, capturing that feeling, if not the actual image, forever. And he would never, ever be able to forget all the things that image made him feel.

Turning back to the drawings that he knew were of Eve, he couldn’t help internally exclaiming again, _She’s real! And she’s here, in this building! I need to find her again. Maybe together, we can figure out what’s going on, who we are, and how it all connects to the Library!_

Despite himself, Flynn felt a hope he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He had found Eve, and he was not going to lose her. Not in this world. Not the way parallel-him had nearly lost parallel-her so many times in that world.

Flynn closed up the padded walls that hid his dreams, tucking that better world away from prying eyes. Then, he turned to the wall opposite his cot and pulled apart the pads there, revealing his map of this world, the world of the Institute.

He had escaped from the tightly contained world of sub-basement six many times over the years, but never because he actually wanted his freedom. He knew he had no place to go, no place in this world except his cell. No, all of his previous escapes had been motivated by nothing more than assuaging his terminal boredom. He liked to wander the Institute, get up to other floors, explore the stairwells, map the mechanical facilities, and generally get out of his mind-numbing prison for a bit while leading his minders on a merry chase. Hell, he had once holed up in a packing crate for three days in a storage room on sub-basement four just to see what would happen. As a result, he knew the Institute and its back rooms and corridors probably better than anyone else. And now, he was finally going to put that accumulated knowledge to good use.

He needed a new escape plan; a real one. He and Eve were going to mount a prison break. And then, they were going to find the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all reviews and comments are appreciated!


	5. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the influence of Nicole's obedience potion, Eve makes a decision about her future. Warning: angst ahead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay between chapters (again). School has become rather intense this quarter. But I now have the rest of this story outlined, so that's something!

Eve woke to utter darkness. For a moment, she didn't know where she was, and the world seemed to roll and pitch around her. She felt panic rise within her, and she suddenly lurched over the side of her cot, vomiting the contents of her stomach.

She felt instantly better and threw herself back onto her cot, sweating, now secure in her knowledge of where she was: her cell, room 262, on Level Two in The Company’s Mental Health Institute.

Eve lay in the darkness of her cell for a long moment, bringing her breathing back under control. Her cot was pushed up against one of the corners so as to make her feel less exposed. It was warm, negating any need for more than a light sheet, and smelled vaguely of vinyl, sweat, and now vomit. Everything here seemed to smell of vinyl, sweat, and vomit if she was honest with herself. She hated it.

Eve pushed herself up and toward the door, stepping over the puddle on the floor by her cot. She was somewhat surprised that she still seemed to reel drunkenly as she walked. She had apparently misjudged the distance to the door and ended up stumbling right into it. As she sank down to her knees in the darkness, leaning against the padded door, she pounded on it, raising her voice to shout, “Hey, I need to use the bathroom!” Luckily, her voice was loud enough, but it sounded ragged, as though she had been screaming for hours.  _ What happened? _ she wondered.

She pounded again and again, and after a few minutes, she heard the handle turn from the outside. She tried to scoot away from her crouching position in front of the door so that she wasn't blocking it, but she wasn't fast enough and ended up getting hit in the temple by the door’s sharp corner as it swung open. Bright light from the hallway poured in, piercing the darkness of her cell. Eve winced.

“Ugh, what are you doing, 262?” the night orderly asked, sounding more than a little annoyed.

Eve crouched on the floor, clutching her head, which felt warm where the door had struck it.

“Got sick,” she murmured weakly. If this orderly was on duty, it was even later than she thought.

“Yeah, I can tell,” the blonde man said calmly, with an even stronger hint of annoyance. “Gentry, take her to the bathroom and get her cleaned up. I'll call janitorial and have them come mop this up.” The man said over his shoulder to his female partner just behind him in the hall. Legally, he couldn't take her into the bathroom, but that wouldn't stop his black-skinned partner from closely supervising Eve in the ladies’ room.

The female orderly pushed past her partner and into the darkness. She stooped to place her arms under Eve’s and helped her get to her feet. Dizziness washed over Eve for a moment, but then she righted herself. With Gentry's help, she shuffled out into the hallway.

Once they were under the harsh fluorescent lighting in the hallway, Gentry gasped. “262, what happened to your head?”

Eve touched her fingers to her temples, and they came away sticky and red. It was the brightest red Eve had ever seen. Or, at least, she  _ thought _ it was the brightest red she’d ever seen. She wasn’t sure.

As Eve struggled to put words together into a coherent sentence, Gentry rounded on her partner. “Evans, did you hit 262 in the head with the door?”

“She was in the way on the floor! I didn’t know!” he immediately defended himself.

“Now we’ll  _ both _ have to write an incident report,” she chastised him.

Evans shrugged, resigned. Gentry sighed, annoyance clear on her face. As she steered Eve toward the women’s bathroom, she said, “Go ahead and shower, 262. You missed your scheduled shower earlier. Plus, you look terrible. Then we’ll head down to medical and have them check you out. You’ve been asleep since mid-afternoon, after all.”

Eve nodded, only somewhat shocked. Her emotions seemed even more muted than usual, and her memories of the previous day were fuzzy and out-of-focus.

The women’s bathroom on Level 2 was much like a large dorm bathroom, with long lines of toilets, a double row of sinks, and a row of showers.

Eve stepped into a shower cubicle, stripped off her sweat-drenched gown and robe, and quickly turned on the water. As the lukewarm water washed over her, Eve quickly set about washing; showers were limited to only five minutes.

As she soaped her body and carefully, tentatively washed the blood from her hair, Eve could feel her dizziness fade and her body become more solid-feeling. Whatever had made her feel so unstable and unreal was passing beneath the real, solid sensation of water. Her bruised and bloodied temple stung under the gentle pressure of the water.

She felt her mind grow sharper, too, and the fuzzy edges of her thoughts fell away, revealing crisp corners and patterns. She felt more like a sharpened blade than a dull, blunted butter knife. In short, she felt like her again… whoever that was.

_ What happened to me? _ Eve wondered. She wasn't all that concerned that she had no answers. She closed her eyes, letting the lukewarm water wash down over her head.  _ Remember,  _ she silently intoned to herself,  _ what you already know is enough. _

The familiar mantra had the opposite of its intended effect, though. Instead of settling her into calm acceptance, it caused two faces to float to the forefront of her mind. The events of the previous day fit into place around them, bringing distress, longing, and conflict with them.

One face was a man’s, and it was rather hazy in her memory.  _ Flynn _ , her mind supplied. Now that she had the requisite distance from him, Eve couldn't understand what had been so compelling about him. He was nothing more than a madman who spoke nonsense and flirted with illegality in the form of his “dreams.” He was scruffy, unwashed, rumpled, crumpled, and quite, quite crazy.  _ He’s a dangerous man _ , the Director’s voice floated back across Eve’s mind, and she felt that she had to agree with that voice. Had to.

The other face was the Director’s, and it was much clearer. In fact, everything about Ms. Noone felt direct in comparison to the madman known as Flynn. Ms. Noone was logical, coherent, and put-together. In-command and commanding respect. And, above all, she was Eve’s way out of the Institute and back out into the real world. And Eve wanted that. She wanted to leave this horrid place behind and get back to doing and being whatever she had done and whoever she had been before.

“A guardian,” Eve whispered to herself. No, that didn't feel completely right.  _ The _ Guardian, with a capital ‘G.’ That's who she was. That's who she would be again. And no madman was going to stop her, no matter how nice and cute he seemed.

And yet…

And yet, Eve’s inner self, her gut instinct, her very being, told her a different story. As her memories of the previous day returned, everything within her screamed to trust one and stay away from the other--and it had nothing to do with logic or appearance at all. Flynn  _ felt _ safe and comfortable. Ms. Noone  _ felt _ dangerous.

_ Don’t judge a book by its cover, I guess _ , Eve thought with a snort before freezing.  _ What does that mean? A book...by its cover… _

Visions of books--hundreds of books, thousands of books--suddenly danced across her vision in the dimly lit shower stall. She could see it: a place with so many books, they went on as far as the eye could see. What was it called? The word was on the tip of her tongue, the word for the place with all the books, but it would not come. Eve squeezed her eyes shut, as though that would help, but it didn’t change anything. The place with the books still floated before her vision. It was blurry and foggy, but it was there, in her mind’s eye.

_ You remind me of something I don't want to forget. _ Flynn’s words danced through her mind, just as he had danced through the common room earlier.

“Time’s up, 262,” Gentry said from the other side of the shower curtain. There was a clatter, the sound of the orderly placing Eve’s toiletry caddy and a fresh change of clothes on the stool just outside the shower. Drawn back into the moment by the reality of the noise, Eve turned off the water. The room with all the books faded again, as she busied herself with the far more solid reality of drying and dressing herself.

As she stepped out of the shower stall and into her pair of still new-looking canvas slip-on shoes, Eve noticed Gentry hovering nearby. Ignoring her, Eve stepped to the sinks and mirrors to loosely plait her long blonde hair into a braid; she was pleased to note that her balance had completely returned. The gash on her temple had stopped bleeding, but it looked like it would be a nasty bruise in the morning. As her fingers steadily worked through her hair, Eve asked, “Why was I out all day? Did something happen?”

Gentry nodded. “According to the second-shift notes, Doc gave you some new meds, and you had a bad reaction. We were supposed to let you sleep but check on you every hour.”

Eve wrinkled her forehead. She couldn’t remember taking any new meds.  _ Strange _ .

When Eve was done in the bathroom, Gentry escorted her down the hall toward medical. Her temple started bleeding a little again, and after examining it, the night nurse placed a bandage on it and gave Eve an ice pack to help bring down the swelling that had already begun. It was too little, too late, but Eve was grateful nonetheless.

As the night nurse was making notes about the incident for The Institute’s records, asking Eve and Gentry to explain how an otherwise complacent and agreeable patient had come to have a large goose-egg bruise on the side of her head, he consulted Eve’s full medical file. Eve had never read it herself, but she had seen it handled, consulted, and added to by various counselors and doctors throughout her stay at The Institute. Now, a handwritten note that had only recently been added brought the night nurse up short. He paused, looked up at Eve, studying her closely, then looked back down at the file in front of him, and read the note again.

“Gentry,” he said, finally addressing the orderly in a surprisingly serious tone, “please keep a better eye on 262.” Their eyes met in a moment of silent communication, and then the night nurse came around to show Gentry whatever it was in Eve’s file that had brought him up short. Eve felt like she should be mildly curious, given that all of this was about her, but she had trouble mustering the emotion.

Gentry’s eye widened in surprise. “Really?” she asked. The night nurse simply nodded.

Gentry’s attitude toward Eve changed instantly. She turned back to the other woman, offered her a soft smile, and said, “Well, come on, Eve. Back to bed for you.”

No one in The Institute--other than Ms. Noone--had ever called Eve by her first name before. She had always been a number, 262. The shift was unsettling.

As the two women walked back to Eve’s cell, she fought the urge to ask Gentry what it was in her file that had inspired such surprise and interest. It often seemed like employees of The Institute had seen it all and couldn’t be surprised or taken aback by anything.  _ Except for Flynn _ , a part of her brain unhelpfully supplied. She immediately silenced it. The less she thought about him, the better.

Eve knew she shouldn’t ask questions and held her queries on the tip of her tongue between her teeth as they walked toward her cell. Then, at the last minute, as Gentry opened her door and Eve stood on the threshold, about to walk in, she gave in to weakness: “What was it in my file that was so interesting?”

Gentry sighed, looked both ways, as though to make sure no one else was in the corridor to overhear them, and then leaned in close to Eve. “I didn’t know you were so close to the Director! I don’t think anyone did! I’ll make sure Evans comes and apologizes for hitting you with the door in the morning before he clocks out!” she said earnestly.

Apparently, Eve’s meeting with Ms. Noone had become a part of her official medical record. She wondered if there was also an entry on her meeting with Flynn. If so, it apparently hadn’t inspired the same level of interest as her meeting with the Director.

Gentry continued in a surprisingly friendly manner: “Don’t worry, you’ll be moved up to Level 1 in no time. And after that, well, you’ll be all better before you know it. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Eve.”

With that, Gentry shut Eve back into her cell for the remainder of the night, leaving her alone in the darkness. Her cell had been cleaned while she was away, the stench of vomit replaced by the strong smell of cleaning products. It reminded her of her meeting with Ms. Noone in Dr. Goodwill’s office. Still, it didn’t do enough to cover the scent of perspiration and vinyl, which permeated everything.

Eve felt her way to her cot and lay down, careful to wedge her ice pack between her thin pillow and her temple, so that it wouldn’t slip. She lay in the darkness, trying to both remember and forget; to feel and yet not feel; to be good and do as she was told, and yet fight back against everything swirling through her mind, pressing in on her, trying to tell her who to be, what to be.

_ Who am I? _ Eve wondered, knowing that everything hinged on that question. Was she a good soldier? Was she a rebel who forged her own path? Did she follow orders or give them? Who was Flynn to her? Who was Nicole to her? Who was she to them? And how did everything else fit together: the place with all the books, the need to remember, Eve’s presence here, in The Institute? She somehow knew it was all connected, and all connected to Flynn and Nicole, too. She just didn’t know how.

Eve was faced with a choice, and she knew it: to pursue these questions wherever they might lead and possibly end up like Flynn--insane and locked up here forever--or to give them up and get out of The Institute.

As she adjusted her head on the pillow, her temple throbbed sharply, and somehow, that pain decided everything for her.

She conjured up Flynn’s strangely familiar face one last time--his charming smile, his intense yet friendly eyes, his manic speech, the shock of recognition that seemed to shoot through her when they shook hands--and then she locked it all away.

_ I’m sorry _ .

She set aside her desire to find him, to see him again… to remember.

_ I’m sorry _ .

She buried everything he reminded her of, everything he suggested, until there was nothing left in her conscious mind but the cold, hard reality of who she was, where she was, and what she wanted. She was Eve Baird, the Director’s Guardian, currently--temporarily--patient 262 at The Company’s Institute for Mental Health. And she wanted to get out.

_ I’m sorry _ .

If she thought about it, she didn’t even know who she was apologizing to: herself, her lost memories that she was giving up on, or Flynn.

_ I’m sorry _ , she thought once more before shutting that train of thought down for good. She consciously turned her mind to Ms. Noone’s words, to her future, to getting better. What she already knew was enough. No more dreams. No more haunting memories. No more Flynn Carsen.

_ I’m sorry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't set out to make this a super-angsty chapter, but I realize that in the wake of Chapter 4, this one ends on a rather angsty note. Sorry.
> 
> Anything and everything is appreciated!


	6. Awash in Memories of Who They Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The LITs are now prisoners in The Company's Institute for Mental Health as well, but it doesn't take them long to start making their own plans to break out and rescue their Guardian and the other Librarian.

Jacob Stone, used-car salesman in this world and denizen of the Library in his dreams, woke with a start and a splitting headache. He felt like his skull had been cracked open, its contents stirred around with a spoon, maybe filtered through a sieve for good measure, and then put back together again. Poorly.

He was in a dark room, lying on an uncomfortable cot, unsure of where he was or how he had gotten there. He carefully got to his feet and was relieved to discover that the floor was stable, clear of obstructions, and surprisingly soft. Jake picked a direction and slowly began walking, taking tentative steps and holding his hands out in front of him to protect his face from colliding with the unknown. Within a few steps, his hands came into contact with a vinyl pad, similar to what they used for wrestling meets in high school back… somewhere. In the place with the books. The place where the Library existed.

 _The Library!_ His mind sang and his heart raced at the mere thought of the magical, amazing place that had dwelled within his dreams since Jake was a little kid. Whatever had happened to bring him wherever he now was, he knew it had something to do with the Library. And despite his current dark--literally--situation, Jake was happier and felt more alive than he could remember ever being before in this life because this was somehow going to bring him closer to finding the Library. The real Library, not just the place in his dreams.

Jake followed the padded wall, his suspicions confirmed when he reached the seams that felt like a door. _I’m in a padded cell_ , he thought. _And the others--the others!_

Suddenly, he came fully awake, and his memories of the others--Baird, Cassie Ezekiel--rushed back. They were all from the Library, people who had stepped right out of his dreams. Baird had been looking for them all for some reason, saying something about needing them to help bring back the Library.

_Damn, Baird kept sayin’ the same thing over and over again, like it was really important. Like it was about the Library. What was it?_

“Spear…lions… ark,” Jake said aloud to the small, empty space. He didn’t know what it meant or why Baird kept repeating it over and over again like a mantra, but he knew it was important to her and to the Library, which meant it was now important to Jake. He repeated it again, making sure he wouldn’t forget it.

That order of business taken care of, it was time for Jake Stone to raise some ruckus. “Hey, where am I?” he shouted, pounding on what he had identified as the door. The noise was largely absorbed by the padded walls, but the sound of his own raised voice still caused his ears to ring and his sensitive skull to vibrate at the sudden loud sound. “Hey, Baird! Cassie! Ezekiel! Where is everybody?”

***

In the next cell over, Ezekiel heard Jake shouting and shook his head, smiling. An observer would have called it a fond smile, something that he would have immediately denied. Ezekiel Jones was fond of no one but himself.

 _It sounds like Jake’s finally awake_ , he thought.

Ezekiel had awoken about an hour earlier and explored every nook and cranny of his cell. He wasn’t precisely sure where he was, his last memory being from inside his car agreeing to go along with the two crazy people that he, the great Ezekiel Jones, would normally never agree to be seen with in public. He must have been crazy himself. _Yeah, temporary insanity, that’s it. Maybe I can put together a defense based on that!_

But Ezekiel knew that he couldn’t fool himself forever. He knew enough about The Company’s inner workings to recognize that he had either landed in the Re-education Center, like a Thought Criminal, or the Institute for Mental Health, like a nutjob. And all because he had listened to three other nutjobs. _Great._

It didn’t help that he was certain he knew the three nutjobs in question. They were likes faces out of a dream come to life in front of him. _An illegal dream_ , he reminded himself firmly. Still, he felt a strange affection for and, simultaneously, a strong exasperation with, the three nutjobs who broke into his studio and turned his whole life upside down. He didn’t want to admit it, but he did indeed know them. And he knew them from the place in his dreams, the place with all the books, the Library.

 _Still, what good does any of that actually do?_ Ezekiel thought angrily. He had been circling around and around this exact question for the past hour.

Despite the persona he had crafted for television, Ezekiel Jones was actually quite smart, brilliant really, if he did say so himself. And he did. He knew there was only one way out of wherever he was: to cooperate, which would prove to be a long, boring, and largely unpleasant process.

Of course, there was one other possibility, one he had been toying with for the past hour: he could escape.

Ezekiel had been playing with locks since he was a kid. For some reason, they fascinated him and were the only things that held his nearly unbearable boredom at bay. The ability to reveal the unknown, to free secrets, to uncover that which someone else wanted to hide, was addictive. It was like a personal challenge, like everyone who locked things away was directly challenging him, “Bet you can’t get through this! Bet you can’t find out what I want to hide! Bet you can’t figure out this puzzle!” And Ezekiel Jones was never one to step down from a challenge.

He was shaken from this thoughts by the sound of the door in the cell next over being yanked open with great force. Jake’s shouting stopped, only to be replaced by barked commands from the orderly. Ezekiel couldn’t hear exactly what was going on next door, but the somehow familiar sounds of a Jacob Stone-induced scuffle told him all he needed to know: Jake was busy thinking with his fists instead of his brains.

Ezekiel shook his head and smiled fondly again.

***

Cassandra Killian woke to the sounds of incoherent shouting and crashing coming from somewhere nearby. She didn’t know where she was; all she knew were the numbers that seemed to spin and swirl before her eyes. Her skull felt like it was vibrating with the formulas that danced across her vision in her otherwise darkened whereabouts. As she brought her hand up to her aching head, she absentmindedly brushed her fingers across the bottom of her nose; they came away wet and sticky. Cassandra tentatively licked her fingers and tasted the metallic tinge of blood.

“Iron. Atomic number 26. Four naturally occurring stable isotopes,” Cassandra began reciting, chanting the words like an incantation,  almost without knowing what she was saying. The numbers in her vision changed to atomic models, with electrons swirling around the nucleus in a merry dance.

“Four isotopes, four dimensions, four directions corresponding to four corners of a square, a building, a piece of paper, a book, a library, _the_ Library!”

At that, Cassandra broke out of her feedback loop of data, sat up, and tried to push past a headache that felt like it was weighing her whole head down. This headache was unlike any she had experienced before, even unlike those that had caused The Company’s doctors to diagnose her with a brain tumor when she was a teenager, derailing her from a successful career at The Company’s highest levels and consigning her to a low-level data-processing job instead.

She knew she had little time left; the previous year, Cassandra had thought her time was up and ended up in The Company’s Hospital with little hope of recovery. There was so surgery, no treatment that could save her. Medicine was designed to comfort, not to heal. But then, she had had the most marvelous dream. She couldn’t remember most of it, but she felt certain that it involved a silver-haired man smiling kindly at her.

“No, not just the Library,” Cassandra said now, trying to silence the ringing in her ears and clear away the numbers that threatened to invade her vision again and push her over the side of her cot. There was something in that thought, haunting the edge of her memory, that was important. Something about the Library, about Baird, about the other Librarians.

She screwed her eyes shut, as though the darkness this offered were different from the darkness that threatened to crowd in and crush her in numbers, mathematical formulas, and symbols.

“Four...four…why is that so important?” Cassandra asked the empty room. “Let’s see. Four tastes like...bananas? I don’t know what bananas taste like, though. How do I know that?” She sighed, pushing that information aside. This kind of nonsensical data she was used to.

“What else? Four is pink. What’s pink?” Keeping her eyes closed, Cassandra smiled at herself. Nothing made sense, but that didn’t matter. Data was data. She could analyze it for sense later. “Pink like a friend, like a hug, like a flower, a friendly flower, a flower on a coat--Flynn!”

At that, Cassandra’s eyes shot open in shock and recognition, but she was immediately inundated with the numbers she had pushed aside through sheer mental effort. She pitched forward and fell off her cot and onto the floor. She didn’t notice just how soft it was.

Cassandra began to crawl forward on her hands and knees--toward what, she didn’t know. She just knew that she had to move. Her nose began to bleed again. “We have to find Flynn!” she shouted to the numbers, hoping they could help her. “He’s the fourth Librarian! We need him to help bring back the Library--it takes four, not three!”

Suddenly, a line of light appeared directly before her, extending from the floor straight up. The line quickly expanded to become a rectangle. But it was an imperfect rectangle, the precise math of the shape deformed by the organic form of a man.

“Flynn?” she asked the figure before everything went dark again. Even the numbers were silent.

***

 _Why the hell does an orderly have such a good left hook?_ Jake wondered, massaging his sore jaw as said orderly locked him back into his cell, having dealt with “Patient 641’s outburst,” as he had described it.

 _Well, at least that answers that_ , he thought, gingerly sitting back down on his cot in the darkness. _I’m in the Institute for Mental Health. Damn; it’s going to be a real bitch escaping from this one._

Jake lay back, thinking hard about everything he knew about the building that housed The Institute--the same building they had broken into earlier to rescue Baird. He knew a lot about this type of building, but he knew little about picking locks, and that is what he really needed to get out of this padded cell.

 _Well, I guess there’s just one thing left for it_ , he mused. Jake curled his right hand into a fist. It was time to start observing his minders and determine who would be the easiest to take down.

Jacob Stone had an escape plan. It involved his fists.

***

Listening to Jacob Stone get into what could only be a fistfight in the next cell over inspired a level of competitiveness in Ezekiel Jones that he had never known in this life. Before, he had only ever competed against himself, trying to best his previous time on cracking locks or always pushing himself to get through harder and harder locks. But now, suddenly, for the first time in his life, he wanted to compete against someone else. He was going to find a way out of his cell before Jacob Stone could, and he was going to free the other man, just so he could rub it in his face later.

Ezekiel gracefully stepped back over to the cell door that he had already identified and began a more detailed inspection. He would have to get through the cell door’s padding, as well as some kind of protective cover plate, he assumed, but neither of those was impossible. _What will be difficult_ , he thought as he heard orderlies walk past his cell in the hallway, just feet away from where he crouched in the darkness, _will be to time this just right._ He was going to have to spend at least twenty-four hours here--maybe longer--observing schedules and shift changes. But after that, he was going to show Jacob Stone just who was the better-- _Librarian?_

Ezekiel Jones shook himself, pushing aside the thought for the time being. He had an escape plan. It involved his cunning.

***

Cassandra woke again much later. She was back on her cot, and dim lights were on. She was able to see that she was in a padded cell, no more than ten feet by ten feet. Her overpowering headache was still there, as were the numbers crowding her mind. As was the knowledge of what they had to do to bring back the Library.

She didn’t know who Flynn Carsen was in this world. Unlike the immediate, shocked recognition that passed through her and Jake when Baird had said Ezekiel’s name, she was sure that she had never heard Flynn’s name before. Not in this world at least. Just in her dreams. That meant they had no idea where he was or how to find him without access to The Company directory, something that was highly unlikely in their present circumstances.

“If I were a crazy genius Librarian, where would I be in a world without a Library?” Cassandra asked herself, sitting upright. Without even thinking about it, she swiped away the jumble of numbers, formulas, and data that crisscrossed her mind, opening a blank space for her to work in. Then she began assembling and cross-referencing data points, trying to find connections between who she and the other Librarians were in that life and who they were in this life.

“There, Jacob Stone: art history, history, architecture… ‘Architecture is just art we live in’...” she giggled at that phrase, not entirely sure what it meant. “Beauty, aesthetics… Here, Jacob Stone: used cars. Basic, average cars. Nothing unique, nothing beautiful. Perfectly ordinary and… unlovely!” She had the beginnings of a pattern! Instead of studying and appreciating beauty, Jacob Stone peddled the ugly and the average.

Excited, she moved on. “There, Ezekiel Jones: the best thief in the world. Breaking the law, breaking the rules, straying from the script… the script!” The pattern in place, it came easier now: the man who declared himself the best thief in the world played by the rules here, sticking to the script of his show.

Cassandra didn’t know enough about Baird in this world to try to fit her into her growing pattern. The other woman dressed like a member of the Thought Police, but that didn’t actually mean she was one of them. “Though, that would also fit somewhat,” Cassandra mused. Then, she shook her head and moved on. She would have to make do with the three of them.

Now was the hardest part, the part she didn’t really want to think about too much: herself. “There, Cassandra Killian: science, math, magic… mathemagic!” she smiled, hearing Baird’s voice echo in her memory, “Still not a thing!” Frowning, she continued: “The possibilities of the universe, the known and the unknown… Here, Cassandra Killian: paper-pusher, data-processor, purveyor of the known...” She stopped, too sad to continue. She saw the shape of the pattern well enough to recognize its accuracy. Rather than being caught up in dazzling possibilities, as she was in that other place, here, she was kept busy seeing only what was and stapling it together. She was a cog in a great machine, rather than the brilliant sorceress who could break the machine with a thought.

“Magic’s real,” she breathed, trying to reassure herself. The word “magic” didn’t even exist in this world; it did exist in her dreams, though--a series of beautiful connections between the math that had always offered some possibilities, but not all of them.

Flynn Carsen and Eve Baird were the people who had showed her that magic was real in that other world. Now, she was going to use that to rescue them, to bring the Library back, to save them all. She had to. She couldn’t bear the thought of living in this world, now that she remembered that one.

“Okay, focus, Killian. Focus. There, Flynn Carsen: archaeology, anthropology, languages... everything, really. A student of learning…” Cassandra trailed off, unsettled by the images these thoughts suggested. If the pattern held, here, in this dreary world, Flynn would be anti-learning, anti-curiosity. He wouldn’t be Flynn. The familiar phrase, so often repeated in ads on TV and in the papers, “What you already know is enough,” danced across her mind.

If the pattern held, _if_ , they would find Flynn somewhere trying to convince people of that very mantra. He could be there, in that very building, The Institute, trying to “help” people recover from their curiosity. At the thought, her heart hurt for Baird.

Sighing, Cassandra let her mental map of the data fall away. None of this helped the problem at hand: she was stuck in a padded cell, in The Institute, with a dangerously pounding headache, and no clear idea of where the others were. She was going to have to get out before she could test her theory about Flynn.

Getting up, she made her way over to the door to examine it more closely. She meticulously cataloged information on the door’s material, frame, weight, material strength, and a host of other relevant variables. From a practical standpoint, she knew it would normally be impossible for anyone other than Ezekiel to get out of this cell. But she knew something that no one else in this world knew: magic was real, and she knew how to use it.

Cassandra Killian had an escape plan. It involved mathemagic.

“Totally a thing,” she breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with getting Jake's, Ezekiel's, and Cassandra's voices just right, so any and all comments are greatly appreciated! Thanks, loves!


	7. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain that Flynn is planning to move against her, Nicole takes the final steps to ensure that Eve is at her mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry for the long delay between chapters. This quarter of school has been crazy, and this story has gotten longer and more involved than I ever expected!

A day passed. Then another. And another. In between meetings and reports and dealing with her drone-like employees, Nicole Noone kept a close eye on her “special patients” at The Institute.

They were apparently all quiet and amenable--even Flynn, who had so often promised to “be good this time,” though he never was. Yet this go-round, he actually was being good, refraining from stirring up trouble or escaping. The other three Librarians were settling in well, and aside from an initial violent outburst from Stone, they had all exhibited marked signs of complacency and acceptance. Even “dear Eve” was making progress in her therapy and was now more ready than ever to give up her dreams and memories of the Library.

All in all, it was exactly what Nicole should have hoped for. Instead, it made her uneasy.

All five of them were now under one roof, and the four Librarians were actually only feet apart, all housed on the same floor, deep underground in sub-basement six. How did she know they weren't planning something? They were Librarians for crying out loud! How did she know that they hadn't actually been in communication? Could she really be certain that Baird wasn't acting, that she and Flynn didn't have some kind of secret plot together? They were watched constantly, but Nicole was the first to admit that one of the drawbacks of the world she had created was a complete lack of imagination. This extended beyond the obvious lack of music and art and drama and fiction, and into the far more basic annoying inability of her employees to imagine that someone could possibly do something unexpected. It's how Flynn had managed to cause so much trouble for her in the past: he imagined possibilities. Even when they would have seemed obvious in that other world, here, if they were any different from the precise status quo that everyone else adhered to, they were unexpected. And dangerous.

After four days of musing over this problem, Nicole decided to take matters into her own hands. She always did best when she seized the initiative.

Nicole left her office in The Company’s headquarters in the early afternoon, making sure to grab the last of the obedience potion from her desk, plus a special surprise “gift.” She arrived at The Institute just as Baird was finishing up her afternoon group therapy session. As the Director, it was easy to commandeer Dr. Goodwill’s office once again, turning the man out to work on reports in the staff conference room next door. He was clearly annoyed, but Nicole didn't concern herself with such small, pathetic figures. She felt comfortably certain that back in that other world, he had been a nobody. She sent word to have Patient 262 brought to her as soon as she was done with her group therapy meeting, and then Nicole prepared for the interview.

Crossing over to the side table, she poured two glasses of water. Withdrawing the vial of clear powder from her suit jacket pocket, she poured the remainder of its contents into one glass and swirled it around until it completely disappeared. Then she carried both glasses back to the desk, placing the one designated for “dear Eve” in front of the visitor’s chair. She took the other, uncompromised glass and settled behind the desk to wait.

Moments later, a calm, composed, subdued Eve walked in. She didn’t look at all surprised to see the Director behind the desk, and Nicole took a moment to study the other woman. Eve did look more settled and complacent that she had the last time Nicole had seen her. There was less color to her, and her eyes no longer darted around, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. This was good: Nicole didn’t need Eve to be curious. She just needed Eve to be hers.

“Eve, dear, it’s so good to see you again!” Nicole gushed, the warmth in her voice carefully calculated. Eve always responded well to warmth.

Eve smiled in return, an obedient, good-girl smile. “It’s good to see you again, too, Director,” she replied. Nothing more.

Nicole gestured for her to sit, and Eve immediately obeyed.  _ Perfect _ .

“I have a present for you. I think it will help,” Nicole began, pulling out a small black case from her suit jacket. She passed it across the desk to Eve, watching her face. Only mild surprise registered there. Eve held the case gently, looking down at it, trying to discern what it was, but without much energy in her inquiry. “Go ahead, open it,” Nicole urged.

Eve did so and extracted a pair of rectangular black-rimmed glasses.

“They’ll help you see things better,” she explained. “Go ahead, put them on.”

Eve obeyed and then looked up at the Director with a slight smile. “You are a little clearer,” she admitted.

“Good. Wear them all the time. I think they’ll help more than you expect.” Of course, they would. Nicole had placed a very slight suggestive charm on the entire factory that produced the glasses. Less powerful than her obedience potion, it still encouraged and nudged the thought of the glasses’ wearers toward complacency and acceptance.

Eve nodded, closing the glass’s case and gripping it in her hands that were folded in her lap.

“Eve, dear, I have something else I need to talk to you about. Something important. Something that I would normally have discussed with you back in our office together. But you’re here, and…” Nicole trailed off, letting her voice become regretful.

“Director, whatever you need, let me know what I can do. I’m your guardian, after all,” Eve said surprisingly firmly, more like the old Eve Baird of the Library than Nicole had heard in a while. And this Eve Baird was focused on helping her.

“Thank you, my dear. Here, have some water.” She pushed the glass containing the last of the obedience potion a little closer. “Sip it. The water down here is treated due to the old pipes, so it can make you sick if you drink it too fast.”

Eve nodded, comprehension coming into her eyes. “I wondered,” she said softly, almost guiltily. She picked up the glass and took a small sip. “It does taste rather metallic.”

Nicole nodded, then continued: “Eve, I need you to be my guardian again. Here, in the Institute. Dr. Goodwill has informed me that some of the patients are planning a riot of some kind. They want to break out and cause panic and chaos among the general population.”

Eve’s body was alert, even as her pupils began to dilate behind her new glasses. The obedience potion apparently worked on her quite quickly. “Why? Why would they do that?”

Nicole shook her head sadly. “I don’t know. These madmen, they think they know what is best for everyone. But what they really want is to harm others, to hurt them with painful ideas and interrupt their lives. Everyone deserves to live comfortable, calm lives, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Director,” Eve immediately responded before taking another sip of water.

“And isn’t everyone here comfortable and well-cared-for?” she pressed.

“Yes, Director.” There was no hesitation, no thought behind the response. Just simple, mindless obedience.

“And yet people here want to upset that, to change that, to make others’ lives more difficult. We need to stop them,” Nicole said, each word calculated to engage the former Guardian’s interest and sympathy. Nicole had rehearsed her speech well, apparently, because Eve accepted it all, nodding away in agreement.

“What do you need me to do?”

Nicole smiled, and it was a struggle to keep it from becoming predatory.

“I need you to be alert, to pay attention. If you see anything, hear anything out of the ordinary, let the orderlies know immediately. If anyone tries to contact you and asks you to join in this riot, get word to me. Can you do that?”

Eve nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Nicole smiled and got up to come around to the other side of the desk. She sat down in the other guest chair, those ridiculously uncomfortable hard chairs that encouraged a proper upright posture. Ignoring the discomfort, she scooted her chair closer to Eve’s. The other woman’s eyes grew wide, and she took another, larger sip of water. The glass was almost empty.

“Finish your water, dear,” Nicole instructed gently.

Eve immediately obeyed and downed the last sip.

Almost tenderly, Nicole reached out and took the empty glass from Eve’s hands and placed it on the desk beside them. Then she took both of her hands in her own and fixed Eve with what she was sure was a warm, tender smile. “Eve, I want you to call me Nicole again. I miss that.”

“Nicole,” Eve repeated obediently, her pupils dilating further.

“I want you to trust me and rely on me and do exactly what I say. If you can do that, I’ll have you moved to Level 1 next week. But I need you to report on any suspicious activities within The Institute first.”

Eve swallowed, almost gulped for air, and nodded unsteadily. The obedience potion was taking full effect. It’s a pity Eve had such a strong physical reaction to it.

“If anyone-- _anyone_ , Eve--tries to recruit you into this riot, report it immediately. Do you understand?”

Eve nodded again, the action almost throwing her off balance in her chair. Nicole released her hands and placing them on the other woman’s shoulders, steadying her. She lowered her voice as though she were telling a secret. “And then, after some time on Level 1 to re-acquaint you with the world and with your freedom, you’ll come back to work. With me. You want that, don’t you?”   


“Yes, Di--Nicole.” Eve’s breathing had become fast and shallow.

Nicole reached up to tuck a strand of blonde hair that had escaped Eve’s tight ponytail back over her ear and behind the glasses that perched there. She let her fingers then glide down over Eve’s cheek gently, softly. She found herself surprised by how smooth the other woman’s skin was. She had somehow always associated the other Guardian with toughness and hardness.

“Eve, dear,” she breathed, leaning in, “I need you back with me.”

At that, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to Eve’s, which were parted in slight surprise. Even her lips were surprisingly soft, not chapped like she had expected. Nicole felt the other woman exhale in a puff of shock, but then lean into the kiss and respond ever so slightly. It was all Nicole needed. As soon as she felt Eve’s lips move against her own, she pulled back. Eve’s eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused, but not confused. Nicole smiled a self-satisfied smile. Eve was hers.

“Get better, my dear,” she whispered, then stood and went to the door, summoning the orderlies.

Eve swayed on her feet as Nicole gently drew her up and out of her chair, though she wasn’t as unstable and out of it as she had been after their last interview. As the orderlies led her away, she looked back over her shoulder at Nicole, gazing at her blankly. Nicole was careful to keep a soft, warm smile on her face until Eve was out of sight.

In that moment, Nicole knew she had won. She had predicted Flynn’s next moves and plotted her own in response. And she knew that when Flynn put whatever plan he was surely cooking up into action--after all, how could he not?--Nicole would emerge victorious. Eve was surely the lynchpin to Flynn’s plan, and Nicole had already claimed her. He would fail, and he would be betrayed in the process.

_ Check and mate, Flynn _ , she thought.

***

As Eve staggered back to her cell, dizzy and unsteady, she was awash in ideas and thoughts and emotions:

_Level 1 soon!_

The way her new glasses made everything sharper and crisper, but also blander and less colorful.

The metallic taste of the water that made her sick to her stomach and dizzy and tingly all over.

The need to foil the coming patient riot.

The feeling of Nicole’s lips on her own.

And something else.

Beyond all those ideas and sensations and plans and promises, something else nagged at Eve’s memory. She tried to push it away as she stumbled along the corridor back to her cell, leaning more and more heavily on the orderlies, but the nagging thought both wouldn’t reveal itself and wouldn’t go away. It was something about the Director, about her appearance.

It wasn’t the surprisingly gut-dropping warmth of her lips against Eve’s. It wasn’t her cold, hard eyes that somehow didn’t match her smile. It was something else. Something more important than all of it.

Eve was almost unconscious by the time they reached her cell and the orderlies clumsily laid her down on her cot. She couldn’t even summon the energy to remove her new glasses. Despite that, she fought the sleepiness that pressed itself upon almost against her will. There was something within her that couldn’t rest until she knew what it was that had so captured her attention.

_ The necklace! _ something in Eve suddenly screamed.  _ The necklace is important. Don’t forget the necklace _ .

With that, Eve let herself drift off to sleep, mumbling softly, “The necklace… the necklace…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all comments and reviews are greatly appreciated!
> 
> We're coming close to the end, and I'm so excited to write the climax to this story.


	8. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn and the LITs all make their first moves to break out of The Institute and rescue Eve.

It was time to move. Flynn could feel it.

He didn’t know exactly what time of night it was, but he had laid awake often enough, listening and learning, to know the precise time when things became their most quiet and yet also granted the most time before the Institute became alive once again. He hadn’t taken his meds this evening for this very purpose--not that avoiding them was hard. Everyone here was shockingly gullible, after all.

He didn’t need to consult his wall of maps again. He knew exactly where he was going and how best to get there. Besides, he couldn’t look at them in the middle-of-the-night darkness of his cell. He did regret not being able to take one last look at his other wall, though--the wall that contained his dreams of his secret, hidden world. It had been just his world for so long. Now, he had found another person he knew shared it.

Before lights out earlier that evening, Flynn had stood in front of that wall for a long, long, time, just staring at it. He knew one of three things would happen after his escape: 1) he would be caught and sent back to his cell and his secret wall again soon enough; 2) he would be caught, given a permanent reset, and likely wouldn’t even remember that his long-standing collection of drawings even existed; or 3) he and Eve would succeed, and he would never see that wall of his dreams again. Perhaps someday, some other inmate of the room would find them. Perhaps it would even be another former denizen of the Library. He didn’t know. All he did know was that he couldn’t take his drawings with him; the risk of discovery was just too great.

And so he had studied them as he never had before. As he stood in his bathrobe and striped pajamas, Flynn had committed every last detail to memory, connecting his drawings to what remained of his memory as securely as he could. He found himself almost naturally building a house out of his memories-- _ A palace of memories _ , his mind suggested--fitting all of his memories of the Library as securely into place as possible. He located the people there as best he could: Judson wandering the stacks, and Charlene at her desk, hiding behind a pile of receipts. The old knight Flynn placed in his lab. The redhead, the cowboy, and the thief ranged around the table in the Annex, leaning across huge piles of books to debate and goodnaturedly argue with each other. And Eve. Eve, he found, fit in right beside him, standing up on the balcony, looking down on it all, together. His best friend, the sword, was nearby. His books were all around them. It was his home, their home. When Flynn closed his eyes, he could almost smell the old books and the polished metal and Eve’s shampoo. It smelled like apples. Flynn wasn’t sure what exactly an apple was, even though he could recite its precise taxonomy.

His memories safely locked away in his… memory palace?... Flynn had opened his eyes and took one last look at the wall before closing it, and his gaze had fallen on his favorite drawing: the drawing of the two figures dancing. Just looking at it made him feel more alive than he had ever felt in real life. Had he even ever danced? Flynn didn’t think so. He knew he could sword fight, so he felt reasonably sure he could dance. Reasonably. Once they got out of here, he was going to dance with Eve. It was all going to work out. He could feel it.

On an impulse, Flynn had reached out and pulled the drawing off the wall. He just couldn’t bear to leave it behind, and he wasn’t convinced it had anything to do with the Library. It felt… personal, like it went beyond the Library. Even if it was an image of parallel-him and parallel-Eve dancing--which he hoped it did--the Library didn’t play into. It may have brought them together, but it didn’t lead them out onto that dance floor. And it certainly didn’t burn that image into his mind across parallel universes.

He had carefully folded the drawing up and put it in his bathrobe pocket before closing the wall that hid his Library. Then he had turned away and prepared for bed. The picture was still there now, all these hours later, as he lay in the dark, counting his breaths and waiting for the right moment, which had finally arrived.

Flynn leaped up, felt his way to the door, and knelt down, moving by memory.  He could hear one of the orderlies on their rounds coming toward him. As soon as they passed and turned the corner back to their office, it would be time to move. He had done this before, and he felt secure in the knowledge that he could do it again.

But then, something happened, and Flynn’s plans changed.

He heard some kind of noise and commotion coming from a cell across the hall. Until a few days earlier, Flynn hadn’t even known there were other patients on sub-basement six. Based on the direction this disturbance was now coming from, he was pretty sure it was the same one who had started screaming and shouting a few days earlier, alerting everyone else to his or her presence.

Flynn stilled, his hands frozen in place on the padded door of his cell. This could ruin everything.

He heard the orderly turn back a few steps and open another door. There was a murmur of some kind, and then the sound of a loud heavy impact followed by a grunt. More indeterminate noises of some kind--Flynn assumed the orderly had been forced to take a swing at the patient again and that it had knocked him out cold. He realized that his right hand was flexing, twitching for a sword.

There was silence then. The door didn’t close. What was going on? The longer Flynn waited there, in his cell, the less time he’d have to move around The Institute unmolested.

Then there was a soft beeping coming from the direction of the orderlies’ office, the sound of that door opening and closing, and footsteps coming toward the cells. Apparently, the orderly in the cell had summoned his partner.

“Porter, what’s the problem?” the other orderly’s bass voice came from just outside Flynn’s cell. Perhaps he could make a break for it while both orderlies were occupied in this other cell. Perhaps this wasn’t a disaster after all.

Suddenly, everything seemed to happen all at once. There were more sounds of heavy impact, a muffled “What the--,” crashes, and soft explosions that filled the air with the tangy taste of baking soda. Flynn couldn’t wait. This might be the distraction he needed. He went to work, digging his fingers into the carefully hidden worn-away padding along the door’s lock. Working from memory, his fingers found the complicated release mechanism, even as the sounds continued outside, seeming to come from multiple directions at once.

Then everything stopped and went silent. Flynn realized that his heart was hammering in his chest. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, yet the excitement, the danger of the plan going all sideways was exhilarating.

The locking mechanism clicked under his fingers, and Flynn straightened. It was time. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall…

… just as three other figures also dressed in Institute-issued pajamas also did so.

The four of them stood there, facing each other, all gaping in shock.

The familiar-looking young Asian man broke the shocked silence first. “I got out first!” he exclaimed, wheeling on the other man who had emerged from the cell across from Flynn’s. It seemed an odd thing to say, given their circumstances. The cell door behind the young man stood wide open, its locking mechanism clearly disassembled far more elegantly than Flynn’s was.

The man who emerged directly across the hall from Flynn, whose gaping cell door revealed two pairs of legs in scrubs splayed out on the ground, immediately responded, “You did not! My door was open first--”

“But you had to wait in there for the other guy, mate! I heard--”

“Ha! You heard me get my door open first, and that’s all that counts! Cassie, didn’t I--”

“Cassandra, you saw me step out first, right? I--”

“Flynn!” the red-headed woman’s exclamation threw them all off, and the three men turned to stare at her, as smoke continued to trickle from the lock on her own cell door behind her.  _ Did she make some kind of explosive? But if she did, why does it smell sweet and syrupy?  _ Flynn wondered absently. He noticed that she had a slight nosebleed, which she was completely ignoring. Instead, she was staring at Flynn, her eyes a combination of shocked delight and apprehension. Seeing this, the other two turned to look at Flynn as well.

He stood frozen for a moment before his brain caught up with him. The redhead was so very familiar, like a face from his dreams. “Cassandra!” Flynn blurted out suddenly, recognition flooding him. “It’s you!” 

Before she could respond, Flynn turned to Ezekiel. “And you! You're the thief!” He paused for a moment and walked up to the younger man, studying his face. Then it hit him, the phrase coming out fully formed, like he knew it so well: “You're Ezekiel Jones, the greatest thief in the world!”

“Greatest? I don't know about--” Jake began before Flynn spun around toward him like a dancer.

“And you’re the cowboy! The cowboy who loves art! Stone!” Flynn finished triumphantly. “You're the other Librarians!”

Jake stepped up close to Flynn, danger and suspicion in his face, and demanded in a low voice, “How do you know about the Library?”

“Because he’s one of us,” Cassandra said softly, breaking the three men from their intense focus. “He’s from the Library, like us. He's the one who was there first, the one who knows it better than any of us.”

Ezekiel joined in, his voice soft in wonder as he wandered among his memories, his eyes unfocused as he struggled to dredge them up, “You left a lot. You weren't around as much once we came. That's why we didn't remember you at first.”

There was a momentary pause as they all digested this new information, as new memories began to slot themselves into place about who they were and what the Library had been.

Then, as one particular memory came back, Jake’s eyes grew hard and angry, and his nostrils flared in rage. Before Flynn could prepare himself or even raise his arm in self-defense, a fist appeared in his field of vision just a split-second before it connected with his nose.

As Flynn collapsed to the ground, clutching his face and trying not to cry out, he was dimly aware of Cassandra and Ezekiel rushing to Jake’s side and grabbing ahold of his arms, as though either of them could actually hold the muscular man back if he wanted to pursue his assault of Flynn. In hushed voices, they demanded of Jake why he had done that, what was he thinking, and whether it was really necessary.

“He had it coming,” Jake said calmly, looking down at Flynn, who was bent over and trying to ascertain whether his nose had been broken. “He left. He left the Library, and he left Baird.”

The other two Librarians grew very still as they remembered that as well. Their expressions grew hostile and cold as they looked back at him.

Flynn straightened up, shocked at the accusation. Blood ran down his face and covered his make-do ascot, robe, and pajamas. He couldn’t believe that he would ever actually leave the Library or Eve by choice. It felt wrong on every level of his being. “What?! Why would I leave the Library?” he demanded. “I’ve been dreaming about it since I was a little boy. All I’ve ever wanted is to get back to it. It's a place of wonder and knowledge and magic. I would never leave that. Just like I would never leave Eve. I love her. I--”

Not sure to best explain his feelings for Eve from his vantage point in this other universe, Flynn did the first thing he could think of: he pulled out the drawing of the two dancing figures that he had taken from his room. Unfolding it, he held it out in front of him. He didn’t know why he felt that it would speak for itself, but somehow, he knew it would.

Cassandra didn’t seem to recognize the drawing at all, but Jake and Ezekiel did. Their eyes softened, and then they both looked up at Flynn’s earnest face.

“Okay,” Jake said, raising his hands in surrender, “okay.”

Flynn nodded at the other man and folded the drawing back up, putting it back in its place in his pocket.

“Then… what happened to you? Where did you go?” Cassandra asked in a soft voice as she stepped forward, procuring a tissue from her pocket, and began dabbing at the blood on Flynn’s nose. He immediately took an unspoiled one from her and began dabbing at her nose in return, much to her surprise.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I don’t remember leaving, and I don’t remember an end to it all...” Flynn trailed off, and his hand stilled. He was uncertain of how he could explain what he himself didn’t know. Images of Nicole, of something large and hard connecting with his face, and of intense pain came into his mind, but they were confused, and he didn’t know how to make sense of them.

Luckily, he apparently didn’t have to, because Cassandra suddenly brightened, asking, “So, I take it you're trying to escape, too?” as she tried to sop up the still-flowing blood on Flynn’s face and neck.

“That's step two,” he responded, dabbing away the last of the blood on Cassandra’s face. “Step one is rescuing Eve.”

“Where is she? Have you seen her?” Jake asked.

“Yes, she's up on Level 2, room 262.”

“How do you know her room number?” Ezekiel asked.

“I just so happened to see it on her hospital ID bracelet,” Flynn responded with more than a little pride in his voice. “But we have to move fast.”

That sent them all into a flurry of activity. Flynn, Ezekiel, and Cassandra all secured the doors of their cells to make it look like they were still safely ensconced within. Then Flynn cleaned all traces of blood from the floor, while the other two helped Stone remove all communications devices from the two unconscious and beaten orderlies that now lay in his cell and tied them up before securing his door as well.

“Follow me. I’ve done this before,” Flynn said once that job was done, stuffing the remaining tissues into his nostrils to sop up any additional blood flow. It certainly wasn’t the heroic look he was going for in his rescue of Eve, but he’d have to make do. He took off toward the orderlies’ office without waiting for the others.

“You’ve snuck up to Baird’s room before?” Jake asked from the back of the group, bewildered, as they all followed in Flynn’s wake.

“Eww,” Ezekiel observed from in front of him.

Cassandra, in front of the other men and behind Flynn, turned to give the other two a glare of annoyance.

“No, no,” Flynn muttered, his mind focusing on ducking and dodging the view of the security cameras around the office. He directed the others on where to step, and they mirrored his own odd dance of invisibility. “I just met her in this world a few days ago. I’ve escaped a lot though. I get bored easily. It’s part of my ‘anti-social behavior,’” he explained, forming air quotes with his fingers on the last phrase.

They reached a door just past the office that proclaimed in stenciled letters, “Boiler Room.” As they ducked into it, the group found themselves in a small, warm room filled with pipes and heating and cooling apparatus. Before anyone could comment on this odd choice of escape routes, Flynn clambered up onto the pipes and started climbing. The first time he had found this room, he hadn’t realized that it was actually several stories tall; the close feeling of pipes and equipment crowding in upon him had overwhelmed any sense of space above. Fortunately, he had thought to look up and realized that this shaft of pipes extended all the way from sub-basement six up to sub-basement one.

As he started to climb, the others looked up, and he heard their inhalation of surprise as they realized the extent of this space. “How long have you been here, Flynn?” Cassandra asked softly. The unspoken question was clear:  _ How long have you been here, in The Institute, to have discovered this? _

“Forever,” he replied nonchalantly, grunting as he focused on his balance as he made his way along a pipe about three feet off the ground to the next handhold. “It feels like I’ve always been here.”

Flynn felt, rather than heard, the exchange of looks between the three Librarians below him. He could sense the pity they all felt for him, and he would have none of that. “Now, come on, get climbing. And be careful: some of these pipes are so hot, they’ll burn your hand.”

Flynn’s heart soared as he climbed. Not only had he found Eve, but he had also found the other Librarians. They were real, just as Eve was real, which surely meant that the Library was real as well. Even more importantly, they actually remembered him and Eve and each other and the Library. Now all they had to do was free Eve and escape. 

As he climbed, Flynn allowed his mouth to quirk into a smile at the humor of it: the Librarians rescuing their Guardian. He somehow knew that it wasn’t how their roles had been originally conceived long ago in that other world, but Flynn also knew that Eve had changed the Library for the better. She had forged them all into a family, and a family protects its members, no matter what. And now, the entire family was coming together to rescue their protector.

Aside from Eve’s role in the Library and Flynn’s own personal feelings for her, he felt certain that she was somehow the key to bringing the Library back. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew it as firmly as he knew that Nicole and her forces would try to stop them.

_ We’re coming, Eve _ , he thought as he scaled the network of pipes.  _ We’ll all be together again, the way we should be, and we’re going to bring back the Library! _

_ Now, if only I could get my hands on a sword... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all reviews and comments are greatly appreciated, loves!


	9. The Rescue of Eve Baird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn and the LITs rescue Eve from her cell, but they have no idea what awaits them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued apologies for the delay between chapters. This chapter ended up getting so long that I finally split it into two.

Eve woke up to someone shaking her and whispering her name. She was groggy and confused about what was resting on the bridge of her nose and behind her ears. She tried to bat the hand away from her shoulders, but missed and just succeeded in grazing the person’s wrist.

“Eve, come on, we have to go. We’re escaping!” a familiar-sounding man’s voice drifted through her barely conscious mind. Who was this? She wasn’t sure, and she both did and did not want to recall. She knew the one thing she _did_ want was to go back to sleep: she was still drowsy and felt weighed down into her bed, as though a thousand pounds were pressing down on her body.

The hands that had been on her shoulders shaking her awake now took both of hers and began rubbing them gently. “Eve, sweetie, wake up. We don’t have much time.”

“Come on, man! We gotta go!” another man’s voice drifted in.

Eve mumbled something incoherent and started to drift back off when a woman’s voice came through: “She probably took her meds last night and is sedated now. She wasn’t actively planning an escape attempt like we were.”

“Come on, Cassandra,” the other man’s voice said incredulously. “Baird’s always planning an escape attempt! She was probably born planning--”

“Shh!” the woman’s voice commanded. Eve couldn’t agree more: she wanted all of these voices to go away so she could get back to sleep.

But then, she felt a small, thin hand press down upon her brow, and a bright red, orange, and yellow zap of color exploded outside her eyes. She felt a jolt of electricity, and suddenly her eyes shot open.

Looking down at her was Flynn, patient 642, from the other day. There was blood on his robe and on the sock tied around his neck like as ascot. He held her hands between his own, and the smile he wore could only be described as adoring. Eve’s gut instinct was to feel relief--even joy--at the sight. “Flynn!” she breathed, a smile making its way onto her face. “You found me!”

But then, something clicked on in her brain, and the Director’s words echoed through her mind against her will: _“He’s a dangerous man…” “Some of the patients are planning a riot…” “_ _If anyone--anyone, Eve--tries to recruit you into this riot, report it immediately.”_

“No!” The word felt like it had been ripped out of her against her will. She tried to sit up and wrench her hands away, but ended up lurching to the side and into his chest, her glasses digging into him.

“What did you--” Flynn started to say, looking up at the figures behind them as he tried to hold Eve upright.

“I just stimulated some of the neurons in her hypothalamus,” the woman cut Flynn off. “Her body is still sedated under the effects of whatever medications they gave her, so she’ll be unsteady for a while yet. Her mind is awake and responsive, though. It’s better than nothing.”

“How did you do that?” the other man asked, awe apparent in his voice.

“Magic,” the woman said softly, her voice like music. She wiped delicately at her nose, and it came away red with blood.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. We gotta move!” the other man said, his voice tinged with worry.

Flynn tried to get Eve to sit upright, but her body refused to respond. It was as though it was wiser than the rest of her. “Get away from me,” she mumbled, but she was dismayed to hear how weak and soft her voice was. She tried to push herself away from Flynn but just ended up lurching precariously in the other direction instead. She had to get away from these rioters and alert the guards. If she could do that, she would be moved to Level 1 soon. But her body just wouldn’t obey her commands.

“Eve, Eve, it’s me, Flynn! I’ve found Cassandra and Stone and Jones. We’re going to get out of here, and we’re going to find a way to bring back the Library!” he exclaimed, gathering her into his arms and trying to lift her to her feet, which refused to take her weight, even if she would have wanted them to.

_The Library? What’s that? That’s not even a word_ , Eve’s brain thought for her, followed by her more conscious thought, _They’re trying to kidnap me. They drugged me, and now they’re trying to kidnap me_. She tried to struggle against Flynn but found that she couldn’t. Her body felt heavy and useless.

“We’ll stop you,” she mumbled, but no one seemed to hear her.

“Stone, help me with her,” Flynn called to the man Eve could now see was standing guard just inside the door. Together, the two men pulled Eve to her feet. Carrying her between them, her arms draped over their shoulders, they made for the door of her cell, the woman trailing behind them.

The patient riot had begun, and it was up to Eve to stop it.

Out in the hallway, they were joined by another man who apparently had been standing guard out there. He was younger than the others and had a familiar face. In fact, they all had familiar faces. Had she seen them before? They were Flynn’s co-conspirators, so she must have.

“Baird!” the young man exclaimed upon seeing her, relief apparent in his eyes. “What did you guys do to her?”

“Hey, I didn't do anything to her, man,” the other man began before the woman, her hair a bright red that hurt Eve’s eyes, cut in, “They sedated her. It's okay. Let's go.”

At that, the group took off down the hall. Eve tried to scream for help, but her throat felt constricted. Her bare feet dragged uselessly along the slick linoleum floor. Her kidnappers hadn't thought to put her shoes on her feet, and they now stung with cold on the floor. Her hospital pajamas were thin, and the cool night air was unpleasant against her sweaty skin. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but it was messy from sleep. At least her glasses were still perched on her nose, helping her see where they were taking her.

The patient riot was surprisingly subdued compared to what Eve had been expecting: Flynn only had three co-conspirators, and they made their way along the hall quietly, careful to duck out of the way of the security cameras Eve somehow knew lurked. How did they know about them? How did _she_? Eve realized she didn't know.

Flynn and the other man half-dragged, half-carried her, holding onto her arms draped around their shoulders. Eve couldn’t see the other man’s face, but his profile looked… hopeful. Which made no sense, since that was another nonsense word. Wasn't it?

Flynn was somehow leading the group while simultaneously carrying her, moving slightly ahead of the rest. His eyes were active, his mind searching, probing the environment around them. Yet even as his mind was so wholly focused, his free hand wrapped around her waist managed to caress her side ever so slightly with his fingertips. The touch felt intimate and familiar. Eve should have recoiled from the touch; her brain even wanted to. Yet her body leaned into it. His fingers on her rib cage felt right, like they belonged there, like she belonged there, in his arms.

She pushed the thought away, just as she tried to launch herself away from Flynn’s grasp, only to merely stumble.

“It's okay, we're almost there, sweetie,” he said softly, tightening his hold on her.

“Hang in there, Baird. We’ve got you,” the other man added.

They rounded the final corner of a long hallway. Like all the others on Level 2, it was lined with long rows of identical patient cell doors. Eve realized they were taking her to the service elevator at the end of the hall. From there, it would probably be easy for them to meet up with other conspirators on other floors.

Suddenly, unbidden, the thought arose in her mind: _Why me? Why are they kidnapping me? Why risk everything for me?_ She could understand the madman Flynn being obsessed with her--he had seemed overly eager to talk to her before, though Eve could no longer remember what it had been about--but what about the others? They certainly did look familiar--

“Cassandra, call the elevator. We can take it down to the mid-basement level undetected. There’s a way out from there that’s almost never guarded,” Flynn instructed the redheaded woman trailing right behind them. She darted ahead and ran a security card through the door’s lock. It lit up and chirped in a quiet, positive response, and the woman pressed the ‘Down’ button. The elevator clanged to life, its loud grating causing everyone to jump.

As they waited the interminably long time for the elevator to arrive, Eve’s head lolled to the side, and that's when she saw it: her chance to escape. A fire alarm.

Gathering her strength, Eve did everything she could to launch herself forward and out of the men’s arms. She succeeded, crashing into the elevator’s door frame, and bouncing off of it and against the hallway wall. Her aim was so good that her back crashed into the protruding fire alarm box, sending a jolt of intense pain up through her spine. As she crumpled to the floor, moaning, she thought, _Okay, not so great an idea_.

“Eve!” Flynn gasped.

“Baird!” the rest exclaimed, all rushing to help her stand.

As they all crowded around her, trying to assess if she had hurt herself, Eve flung her arm up against the wall above her head, making contact with the fire alarm. They ignored it, probably thinking she was trying to figure out what had hit her. It didn’t matter, so long as they were distracted. She fiddled with the box, and in a blink, Eve had released the fire alarm cover plate, grasped the alarm handle, and pulled downwards with all her might.

“You’ll never take me,” she whispered defiantly, but her voice could barely be heard over the suddenly blaring sirens. They were all still trying to help her up, but she now started struggling against them with all her might, slapping their hands away.

“She’s delirious,” the other man who had been carrying her shouted. He was pressing one ear to his shoulder to protect it from the loud noises, even as he tried to grab her flailing arm.

“Too right, mate,” said the younger man as Eve weakly kicked at his shin.

Just then, the elevator doors opened with a now inaudible _ding_.

“Doesn’t matter! Let’s just get her and get out of here,” the young woman exclaimed, almost bouncing with nervous energy and gesturing to the elevator.

At that, Flynn bent down, scooped Eve up, and flung her over his shoulder in a move so quick that, in her confusion, she couldn’t respond to in time. Her back protested in pain at the movement, and her glasses slipped off her head and clattered to the floor.

For a moment, Eve saw her plan falling apart. The guards had been alerted, but the rioters still had her. As Flynn moved toward the elevator, she summoned everything she had and started kicking and punching at him, landing what she knew were rather weak punches on the small of his back. She was hoping to hit his groin with her kicks, but somehow he held her in such a way that her angle was off, and she was just kicking out at thin air. Increasingly frightened, Eve took a deep breath and screamed as loudly as she could, which wasn’t all that loud, especially given the fire alarm that was now blaring all around them.

As they stepped into the elevator, Eve saw several guards at the far end of the corridor. They were a long ways off, but she had to give it her best shot. She began struggling in earnest, and Flynn could no longer contain her. She tumbled to the floor, taking Flynn down with her, and sending the other three conspirators flying backwards against the wall of the elevator.

She righted herself as quickly as she could and tried to run down the corridor towards the guards, but it was really more of a limping jog, given that her legs felt like they had fallen asleep. Everything was cloudy and seemed to be moving in slow motion, but she knew what she had to do. For herself. For the Director. “Guards!” she hollered as best she could. “They’re this way!”

Fortunately, they had noticed the commotion and were already running down the long hallway to her aid. _I’m safe! I’ve been rescued!_ Eve’s heart was full of relief and happiness. Surely, Nicole would now make sure she was moved up to Level 1 soon. After all, she had just thwarted a prison riot!

These thoughts were cut short as a large object crashed into her from behind, taking her down. Strong arms wrapped around her, both cushioning the blow of her fall and also making it difficult to struggle. Eve dimly became aware that behind her, the voices of the woman and the younger man were shouting, urging them to come on, to hurry up, to grab her, to go.

Whoever had tackled her sat up and rolled her over, and she groaned in pain. Eve saw that it was the other man who had been carrying her. His forehead was creased in worry and confusion. He glanced up at Flynn as the other man raced up to them from behind. Flynn gave a brief, curt nod in answer to whatever question his man’s face was asking.

“Sorry, Baird,” the other man said. The last thing she saw was his fist racing toward her face. Then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now lost access to the episode this is all based on (stupid TNT and TNT mobile app!), so my apologies if I'm getting major physical details of the locale totally wrong. This is going to be important in the next few chapters, so hopefully, I'll be able to find a copy of the episode again soon.
> 
> Any and all comments or reviews are greatly appreciated! Love you all! <3


	10. A Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Librarians have managed to rescue Eve, but they still have to escape The Institute. And no one ever escapes The Institute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first draft of this chapter without access to the original episode. When I managed to get my hands on another copy of it, I realized that what I remembered was actually pretty far off, so I revised this a bit and took it even further away from what happened in the episode. So yeah, that's a thing.

Flynn would be lying to himself if he said that Eve’s reaction was what he had been expecting.

He had known she might be disoriented and confused, most likely due to the sedatives the staff had given her to make her sleep. He had been prepared for that. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the hostility and even fear that filled Eve’s eyes when she looked at him.

He had known almost immediately that something was off about her. The glasses were one thing; he had never seen her wear glasses in that other world, and yet now she had fallen asleep in them here. More troubling was the fact that her color was off. Granted, he had only ever seen her once in this world, and then for all of about five minutes, but he knew he had been struck by her unusually bright color, her yellow. But once they had gotten her out of her cell and under the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway, he noticed that her yellow had faded and that she was now as muted and beige as everyone and everything else. Before, she had stood out. Now, she looked like she belonged here. 

And then there was the struggling against him and Stone as they helped her down the hallway and the desperate, almost terrified, mumbling he couldn’t quite make out. He might have been able to chalk those up to her disorientation if it weren’t for the look in her eyes.

When she first opened her eyes, Eve had looked at him with recognition, but after that first, elated moment, it was not a pleased recognition. She had looked at him in fear. She was afraid of him. Thinking back over all the ways he had seen parallel world-Eve look at parallel world-him in his dreams, Flynn knew it had never been with fear.

When Eve had taken off down that hallway, towards the guards and away from them--from him--drawing their attention, for a moment, just for the barest moment, Flynn had wondered if he had been wrong about her from the very start. Was it possible this wasn’t the woman from his dreams, the woman from the Library? Was it possible the woman he had met on Level 2 was just another poor soul troubled with overthinking, and she just happened to resemble the woman in his dreams enough that he had forced that role upon her? But then, reality had reasserted itself almost immediately when the other three started shouting her name and Stone took off after her. No, the others were here, they were real, and they all recognized her as being from the Library, too.

Now, they all rode the service elevator in a tense, uncomfortable silence made all the more painful by the still-blaring alarm. Stone stood directly in the middle of the space, carrying an unconscious Eve in his arms. He looked angry, hurt, betrayed, and confused. Cassandra hovered beside the control panel, staring off into space, as though she were trying to do math. But instead of the normally incandescent look on her face in such moments, her expression was clouded and wary. Ezekiel stood guard right in front of the door. He was facing outwards, clearly ready to be the first one out and the first one to deal with whatever awaited them. His posture made it equally clear that he didn’t want to think about what had just happened with the unconscious woman directly behind him. For his part, Flynn stood beside Stone and studied Eve’s face intently, mentally kicking himself.

He was angry at himself for ignoring his gut instinct. Flynn prided himself on his attention to detail, his ability to notice even the smallest things and then draw conclusions and make use of them. That’s how he had been able to escape from his cell just for fun so much over the years. That’s how he knew exactly which room was Baird’s. Yet in his earnest mania to “rescue” her, he had overlooked all the details that pointed to one glaring problem:  _ they _ had gotten to her.

Somehow, some way, Nicole and her minions and the doctors and the nurses and everything else in this dull beige world had gotten to Eve Baird. Was this perhaps the “permanent reset” Dr. Goodwill was always pushing for? Flynn didn’t think so. Based on what he knew, that procedure was more akin to wiping out any traces of personality or individuality, and this version of Eve, even when heavily drugged, seemed far too feisty for that. Far too  _ Eve _ for that. No, this was something else.

Just as his thoughts began to explore the possibilities of what might have happened to Eve in the few days since he had last seen her, the elevator doors  _ ding _ ed and started to slide open. Everyone tensed, fully prepared to be met by a contingent of guards. To their surprise, the mid-basement level was still empty, its bare cinder-block walls lit only by the naked lightbulbs that hung down from in between various pipes that crisscrossed the claustrophobically low ceiling. The guards probably thought they were going down to the main floor and were preparing to ambush them there.

Flynn forced himself back into the moment. He could figure out what had happened to Eve later when they were all free. He stepped forward, waving for the others to follow him. “Okay, we’re almost there. There’s a door on the other end of this floor to a set of stairs. They lead directly outside. Follow me.”

“We should have come in this way,” Ezekiel muttered, falling into step behind Flynn.

“Shut up, man. We did the best we could,” Stone snapped from the back. He was angry and hurt by Eve’s apparent betrayal and was taking it out on Ezekiel.

“Both of you, quiet!” Cassandra cut in, her voice like a whip on the last word. Flynn didn’t turn around--he was too busy keeping an eye out for security cameras and guards--but he could picture the face she was making at the two men: a wide-eyed, stern, annoyed expressed that he could somehow hear Eve’s voice describe as “Cassandra’s ‘big-sister’ face.” His mouth turned up into a small smile at the thought.

They made their way across the huge, warehouse-like space that was the same size as the entire building, packed with pipes, equipment, and various pallets and boxes of supplies, careful to keep to the shadows and remain quiet, even as the alarm continued to sound from above. The ceilings on this level were low, probably just under seven feet high, and Flynn had to resist the unconscious urge to duck. They were about halfway to the promised door when the sirens cut off.

“Finally!” Ezekiel gasped.

“That’s not a good sign,” Flynn murmured, stopping in his tracks and extending his arm to halt the others.

“Wha--” Cassandra began.

At that moment, the heavy stairwell door back near the service elevator slammed open. “They’re somewhere down here! Move!”

In an instant, all four Librarians and their unconscious Guardian had dropped to the ground and out of sight. 

“We can still make it to the stairs if we keep low and keep quiet,” Flynn whispered. “This place is like a maze, so we can lose them pretty easily. Follow me.”

Moving in a half-squat, Flynn turned down one of the corridors created by boxes and machinery, leading them away from the main aisle. He knew that if he weren’t as familiar with the space as he was, he could easily get them lost. They zigzagged up and down aisles, even as they could hear the heavy tread of guards fanning out and shouting to each other to coordinate their positions and sweep the whole room.

Things seemed to be going well until the group turned a corner and saw two guards about a hundred yards ahead down the aisle.

“There they are!” one of the guards shouted, and his voice seemed to bounce around the cavernous space. “This way!”

Flynn let out a panicked yelp and without thinking, led them down another side corridor. At this, the group gave up all pretense of stealth and raced across the large warehouse as shouts and the pounding of feet followed them. They zigzagged through the various corridors, trying to lose their pursuers.

“What now?” Cassandra called from behind. They all knew that there was no way they could make it to the door and outside now.

“I’ve got a new plan,” Flynn called back.

Flynn redirected the group away from the original exit and instead diverted them to the side of the huge room. There was a side room there that had once been a receiving dock. The dock’s garage-like door had always been locked, so he had never been able to explore beyond it before. It seemed like now was a perfect time to do so.

Flynn led them deeper into the maze, which apparently confused their pursuers, as their shouts grew quieter and further away. Suddenly, they emerged from the maze to find that they had reached the very side of the building. Flynn ducked down a normal cinder-block hallway and burst into a very large room with high ceilings. Towards the far end was a narrower section partitioned off by cement pillars. On the other side of the pillars was the promised loading dock with its huge garage door that probably, hopefully, led to their freedom. Set high above was a line of narrow windows showing them the night sky. It was starting to turn a slightly less black greyish color that meant dawn wasn’t far off. They needed to be long-gone from this facility before the sun rose if they wanted to make good on their escape.

“The door’s locked, so we might need to hold them off for a few minutes,” Flynn said as they all raced into the room.

Gasping for breath, Cassandra glanced around at the random items piled against the walls and announced, “I have an idea. Jake, I’m going to need your help.”

Out of breath, he nodded, put Eve down on the floor by the loading dock door, and hurried over to help Cassandra, who was already busy trying to move a pile of six-foot-high chain link fence segments into the fairly narrow opening between them and their pursuers.

“I‘m on the door,” Ezekiel proclaimed, rushing over to it.

Flynn knew he ought to help Cassandra and Stone, but first, he knelt down beside Eve to check on her. She was still unconscious but breathing steadily and evenly. A dark bruise across her nose and the edge of her left eye was already forming. He tenderly brushed the hair out of her face and was relieved to see that they had lost those glasses that looked so wrong on her somewhere along the line. He didn’t know what Nicole had done to her, but he knew that together, they could snap her out of it.

Assured that she was okay, Flynn jumped up and hurried over to Stone who was now busily running a long metal cable along and through the chainlink barricade he had already constructed across the opening. For her part, Cassandra was studying a huge breaker box nearby in intense concentration.

“How is she?” Stone asked, tossing another length of cable to Flynn and indicating that he should run an identical length about two feet above the one he was running.

“Still unconscious. She’ll be fine,” Flynn answered absently, attending to his assigned task.

“Hey, umm, sorry about having to take her out like that,” Stone said. He didn’t look at Flynn, but his voice was apologetic. “I didn’t want to have to do that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Flynn responded. “But I’m not the one you have to apologize to. Tell her when she wakes up.”

Stone stilled, then looked up at Flynn with a huge grin. “I don’t know whether she’ll kill me or be proud of me.”

“Probably both,” Flynn said with an answering grin.

In the background, there was a soft clink and an even softer, “Damn,” from Ezekiel. “I don’t suppose there’s a toolbox around here?” he asked.

“By me,” Cassandra replied quickly without looking up. 

Ezekiel raced over to what was more of a tool chest than a toolbox and began rummaging through it.

“Problem?” Flynn asked as he and Stone finished their assigned tasks and stepped back from the newly erected barricade.

“Broke my lockpick on this rusty old thing,” Ezekiel grumbled. “Ah ha!” With that, he held aloft something small and metal, then raced back over to the door.

“Got it! Stand back,” Cassandra announced. With that, she connected some wires running from the metal cables Flynn and Stone had been handling to the breaker box and flipped a switch. The entire far end of the room where they were was now protected by a six-foot-high buzzing electric fence. Cassandra had a huge grin on her face, clearly quite proud of herself. “That should at least buy us a little more time.”

She wasn’t a moment too soon, either, because at that moment, all of the guards rushed into the large space. One, young and determined-looking, raced forward. One of the sections of chain link fence they had used had a swinging gate door, and now, this young man reached forward to grab the gate’s latch.

“Don’t!” came a smooth female voice from the back of the room. Everyone froze, and Flynn felt his heart sink. Against the mindless, imaginationless guards, they had actually stood a chance. Against  _ her _ , well, the odds had just turned against them.

The young man stepped back, and the crowd of guards parted as Nicole walked forward. She looked too perfect, too put-together with her smooth hair, smoky makeup, and black suit for this hour of the night. Had she been sitting up, waiting for them to make their move? Had she been expecting this?

“Don’t touch the fence. Ms. Killian just electrified it,” she said with a sultry smile. Her eyes never left Flynn’s the entire time.

Stone, Cassandra, and Flynn all backed up, converging on Ezekiel, who was still working on the door, and Eve, still lying unconscious on the floor. Flynn’s hands almost unconsciously raised in the air, palms out in a sign of surrender.

“Hello, Flynn,” Nicole practically purred. “What happened to your promise to be good this time?”

“Well, you know me,” Flynn laughed awkwardly, trying to cover his rising panic. “I just can’t seem to stay occupied. Besides, what’s a little prison break between friends?”

At that moment, Ezekiel Jones leaped up from his crouched position. “Got it!” he crowed. He ripped off the lock and tugged the garage-style door upward with all his might. It rumbled upward to reveal… a brick wall. The door had been sealed at some point in the past.

Flynn felt like he was going to throw up. He had miscalculated. Badly. And now it was going to cost them all. They would probably all get that “permanent reset.” Maybe even Eve, despite her fighting them tooth and nail the whole way.

Nicole made a tsking noise with her tongue. “Flynn, Flynn, Flynn. Whatever am I going to do with you?” She finally broke her eye contact with him and looked around at the other three Librarians, who were now standing clustered together behind Flynn. “With all of you?” Her eyes drifted down to Eve’s unconscious form on the floor. “And what have you done to dear Eve?” she asked, her voice rising in mock concern. “Flynn, if you’ve harmed my guardian, I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

“Your guardian?” Stone interjected. “She’s the Library’s Guardian!”

“Yeah, like you, remember? You were a Guardian, too,” Ezekiel added, “in the dream world.”

“Nicole, I know this is confusing and that it probably sounds crazy, but we  _ need _ you to remember. Remember the place in your dreams? Remember the Library?” Cassandra added, almost pleading.

In that moment, Flynn felt sad for the others, for their hope. While he knew that Nicole was somehow connected to the Library in that other world, he also knew she was connected to it in a very different way than the five of them were. He didn’t know what she had done, but he knew it wasn’t something good. Remembering the Library would not help Nicole. But they didn’t know that.

To all of their surprise, Nicole actually laughed. “Remember the Library? Oh, my dear, I’ll never be able to forget it. That’s why I destroyed it,” she said, her voice turning from airy and mocking to hard and dangerous at the end.

Flynn and the others froze at that. _ The Library was real? Real in this world? And she destroyed it? Why? How?  _ Flynn’s mind raced with questions, with memories. He didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend why anyone would even want to wipe out the wonderful place with books and magic and knowledge. The place where he had found a home and, eventually, a family. None of it made sense.

Nicole spoke again, stirring him from his swirling thoughts. “Now, deactivate the electric fence and come out one at a time with your hands raised.”

“Oh yeah?” Stone challenged, full of false bravado in the face of his fate. “Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll kill Baird,” Nicole replied. She smiled, and it was both perfect and deadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, coming up on the big finale! I am both so excited and so not excited to write it, because well, there's more pain and angst coming for our Librarians and their beloved Guardian before they can make things right.
> 
> Any and all reviews and comments are greatly appreciated, my loves!


	11. The End of the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole declares checkmate and reveals her secret weapon against the Librarians: Eve Baird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the angst train!
> 
> Last night I realized that the reason I hadn't been able to finish this chapter is that it's already more than twice the length of any other chapter in this fic to date, and it's still not done. I decided to compromise with myself and cut it in half at a logical point.

“Or else I’ll kill Baird.” Nicole smiled, and it was both perfect and deadly.

Flynn thought he had been prepared for anything Nicole might throw at them. He had been prepared for threats, psychological manipulation, charm, seduction, logical arguments, anything. Anything but this.

He already knew that Nicole had somehow gotten to Eve. He had no doubt that she could do exactly what she threatened. She would kill Eve, the woman from his dreams, just as he had finally found her, unless he and the others surrendered, probably to have their minds wiped forever. He had failed. It wasn’t wasn’t fair. 

The other Librarians weren’t as daunted by this threat as he was, though. “How’re you gonna do that?” Ezekiel asked, all bravado. “You’re out there, and she’s in here, with us.” 

Nicole smiled at the young man. “I’m so glad you asked,” she purred. Flynn swallowed nervously. He knew he wasn’t going to like what happened next, whatever it was.

“Eve,” Nicole called, her voice suddenly changing registers from playfully taunting to haughty and commanding, “wake up.”

Flynn looked down at the woman beside him just in time to see her eyes fly open. They were blank and empty, as though she were sleepwalking. He crouched down beside her, his hands fluttering over hers and up to cup her cheek. Seeing her look so empty was frightening.

“Get up,” Nicole commanded.

Eve again obeyed, awkwardly and painfully climbing to her feet. Flynn tried to help her, but she moved as if he weren’t even there. Her eyes were open, but it was like he was completely invisible to her. Her body was still sedated from her meds earlier, and she swayed on her feet, her head lolling slightly to the side. Flynn grasped her shoulders to steady her and keep her from falling over. “Eve, it’s me. It's Flynn!” he said, leaning close and studying her face. There was no response. “You know, patient 642! I put on quite the show for you when I was dragged off of Level 2, just so you’d remember me.”

At that, a tiny spark of life seemed to come back into Eve’s eyes.

Encouraged, Flynn continued, “You said I was nice. And cute--I remember that! And--”

“Eve, hit Flynn,” Nicole suddenly cut in with an air of calm, cool detachment. 

Almost against his will, Flynn’s eyes shot from Eve’s blank face over to Nicole, who was smiling, her head cocked to the side as though she were admiring a piece of fine art. He idly wondered what he had ever done to this woman to inspire such gleeful malice. Before he could voice such a thought though, Eve’s left hand whipped out and slapped Flynn hard across the face.

The other three Librarians groaned and cringed in sympathy. The sharp crack of the Guardian’s strong hand meeting Flynn’s skin echoed in the large room.

His cheek and lip stung, and when he raised a hand to his face, he realized that his lip had started bleeding where she had hit him. She was still swaying slightly on her feet and didn’t look like she had the strength to strike him, let alone draw blood. Yet Nicole had commanded her to do it, and she had.

“Eve,” Flynn said, even more desperate to reach her now. He put his hand back on her shoulder and shook her gently, trying to awaken her. “Eve, wake up! I don’t know what she’s done to you, but I need you to wake up  _ now _ .”

Eve didn’t respond at all, her face and eyes blank and sleepy. The small spark of life that Flynn had managed to kindle was gone. Her long blonde hair hung in a messy ponytail, she was barefoot, and her standard-issue hospital scrubs were dirty and torn at the neckline, probably a result of her earlier struggles.  _ She looks like a zombie _ \--the word came unbidden to Flynn through his memories of the Library-world.

Despite that, the activity must have awoken her somewhat, because Eve was now muttering softly under her breath. He couldn’t catch what she was saying, but from some unknown corner of Flynn’s mind, it came to him:  _ She’s under a spell. This is magic. _

“It won’t work, Nicole,” Flynn called out, never taking his eyes off of Eve or his hands off of her shoulders. “You can’t use magic to divide us.”

“Hit him again, Eve,” Nicole said, her voice clear and cold. “Harder.”

Eve’s left fist rammed into Flynn’s gut with surprising force, and he crumpled forward, the wind knocked out of him. As he fell forward and sank to his knees in what felt like slow motion, Eve whispered into his ear, “The necklace.”

Just as his brain registered her words, time sped up again, and the concrete floor raced up to meet him. He lay on the floor, doubled up on himself, trying to catch his breath and keep from retching and make sense of what he thought he had just heard.

“Harder,” Nicole said again, her voice every bit as hard as Eve’s punch had been.

“Wait--” Flynn began before Eve’s bare foot shot out and kicked him in his already sensitive stomach. Despite her enchanted state, she retained enough muscle memory to flex her foot and kick him solidly with the ball of her foot, landing a great deal of impact in a small area. The pain was so intense, he retched and threw up on the concrete floor.

“Okay, enough already!” Stone shouted, taking a step forward. “We get it. You used magic and cast some kind of spell on Baird.”

Through a haze of pain, Flynn saw Cassandra rush over to him. She kneeled down beside him and cradled his head in her dirty palms as he continued to dry heave. His lip was still bleeding, and not to be outdone, his nose had started bleeding again from Stone’s earlier assault.  

Seeing his blood drip onto Cassandra’s pale fingertips made Flynn dizzy--something about that image seemed so familiar. Perhaps it was another image from one of his dreams?

A roaring in his ears nearly drowned out Nicole’s next words: “Oh no, Librarian, I don’t think you ‘get it.’ Not fully.”

Flynn forced himself to look up at Nicole, who was standing on the other side of the electrified fence like some kind of corporate goddess of death done up in sepia tones. She was beautiful and terrifying and on fire from within, filled with rage and hate, all buttoned down under a smart business suit and flawless lipstick. Whoever she might once have been, at this moment, in this world, Flynn found her monstrous.

“Eve dear,” she said smoothly, “walk backward ten paces.”

“No!” three voices called out all at once, while Flynn mouthed the same word, but to no avail. Like a robot, Eve walked backward ten agonizing steps toward the crackling electric fence. Ezekiel shot out, running toward his Guardian, but Stone put out an arm, stopping the younger man in his tracks. For once, Ezekiel obeyed.

Eve came to a stop one step away from the electrified fence. All at once, Flynn understood. They were in a trap of their own making, and Eve was going to pay the price. 

Flynn had never felt despair before in this world: not when he first came to The Institute as a child, not when his escapades were spoiled by the orderlies, not even when Eve had hit him. He had dreamed about despair a few times--dreams of an underground vault and of people with fangs and glowing eyes and of an empty, hollow feeling that he had failed someone so much that they had paid for his mistake with their life. But in those dreams, there was always a tinge of hope, a feeling that this wasn’t the end of the story and that things would work out all right in the end. While he had experienced despair in his dreams, they had never left him hopeless when he awoke. 

But now, as he looked up at Eve’s blank face as she stood passively just inches from her death, he felt a cold despair wash over him like he had never felt before. His limbs turned to lead, his fingers went numb, and his chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with Eve’s assault.

“Nicole, don’t,” he gasped, his voice pleading, almost begging, as he tried to roll to his knees. Cassandra helped him, as he was still hunched over and clutching his stomach. He wiped his nose and chin with his free arm; his robe came away red with his blood.

As though she hadn’t heard him, Nicole turned her attention to Cassandra beside him. “Ms. Killian, could you explain for everyone’s benefit exactly what will happen to ‘dear Eve’ when she comes into contact with the fence?”

This was cruel, and Flynn knew it. Nicole had them in her trap and had shown them exactly how she was going to hurt them. Now she was just twisting the knife.

Cassandra’s eyes grew wide, and she looked at Flynn on the floor beside her. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, and he squeezed her hand on his shoulder in reassurance. They were in Nicole’s web now and going to have to play her game if they all wanted to get out alive. Cassandra looked up at Eve in front of them, her eyes wide with pain and fear and guilt, and then turned to look at Nicole. “Well, it’s 220-volt box, and I hooked it up to a single circuit, running about 13 amps through the fence, so--”

“Spare us the technical details, Ms. Killian.” Nicole’s voice cracked like a whip. “Tell your fellow Librarians exactly what will happen to their Guardian if any of you disobey me.”

Cassandra squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and tears leaked from them. Flynn didn’t know nearly as much about electricity as Cassandra did, but he knew enough to know that he didn’t want to hear this. Fortunately, the roaring in his ears helped a little, but it didn’t do anything to fill the increasingly empty feeling in his chest.

“At between ten and forty milliamps, all of her muscles will tense up, and she won’t be able to move away from the fence. At thirty to seventy-five milliamps, she won’t be able to breathe. At between 200 and 500 milliamps, her heart will clamp tight. And above 1,500 milliamps, her tissue and organs will start to burn.  _ Milli _ amps,” she repeated, opening her eyes and turning to look at Stone and Ezekiel. Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

“What--what does that mean?” Ezekiel asked.

“Thirteen amps is 13,000 milliamps,” Cassandra whispered, her head slipping down. Her long red hair hid her face, but Flynn could see her tears landing on the floor beside them, darkening the concrete. The roaring in his ears got louder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. I didn’t think. I didn’t--”

“Shh, it’s okay, Cassie. It’s not your fault,” Stone stepped forward, pulled her to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s  _ her _ fault.” He glared over her shoulder at Nicole, who was watching this entire exchange from the other side of the fence with an attentive smile.

In all the years of his life in this world, Flynn’s greatest problem had been his inability to stop thinking, to turn off his mind for just a minute, and to simply  _ exist _ . Now, for the first time ever, it wasn’t a problem. His mind was blank. Just when he most needed, most wanted his thoughts to be rushing a million miles a minute, trying to find a way out of this, his mind was silent and still. Sheer panic gripped him and held him silent. A sick, sinking feeling made him dizzy, and he broke out in a cold sweat. 

Flynn desperately wanted his mind to race as it so often had in the past. How many times had his plans in this world gone belly up, and he’d had to improvise? How many times in the Library-world had he come up with a brilliant, daring, last-minute plan to save everyone--to save the world? He should have been able to do that now, should have been able to think of some way of saving Eve and everyone else. But his mind was painfully unnaturally blank, taunting him with his own failure when it mattered most.

His head dropped in defeat. As he looked down at himself, Flynn saw himself as Nicole saw him at that moment: dressed in dirty, sweaty pajamas and a bathrobe; covered in blood and vomit; his hair disheveled and greasy; scruffy and in desperate need of a shave. He looked like a defeated, broken man. A madman.

_ I was supposed to be the hero _ , he thought. He didn’t know why he felt that way, didn’t even fully understand what he meant by it, but he knew it was true. He had imagined himself as his dream-self: clever and funny and always ready with a trick up his sleeve. He was supposed to be the hero, supposed to rush to Eve’s rescue with his sword-friend and save the day. Instead, he had failed. 

Perhaps he wasn’t the Librarian he was in his dreams. Perhaps he really was... _completely crazy_.

As Eve’s earlier words echoed through his head, Flynn looked up at her for inspiration. She still stood a single step away from her death, swaying lightly on her feet, no more aware of her fate than if she were sleepwalking. Her head was slightly lowered, but from his position on the ground, Flynn could see that her eyes were blank and she continued to mutter something under her breath. What was she muttering?

Suddenly focused and alert again, Flynn watched her lips form the same words over and over again.  _ ‘The necklace,’ _ he realized.  _ She’s saying ‘The necklace!’ _

And just like that, Flynn’s mind roared to life again, like someone had flicked a switch.  _ What necklace? _ He asked himself, searching his memories. Eve wasn’t wearing one now. Was there some kind of necklace she had worn in the Library? Flynn closed his eyes tight, trying to remember, and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more and depositing streaks of blood in the strands as he thought. He could recall a number of small pendants she had worn, but none of them were clear in his dream memories. They were more like a silver glint on her chest. Was one of them important to breaking the spell she was under?

“Now do you understand, Librarians?” Nicole asked, cutting through Flynn’s thoughts. Her smile was poisonous. “I can kill your precious Guardian with a word.”

“And then what?” Ezekiel shouted, his fear starting to overcome his good sense. “You’ll still be out there, and we’ll still be in here.” He sounded like he was trying not to cry.

“And Baird will be dead. And it will be your fault. Could you live with yourselves if that happened?” she countered evenly. “Lower the fence, come out as instructed, and I will let Baird live.”

“How can we trust you?” Stone demanded, still hugging Cassandra. “How do we know you won’t just kill her--kill all of us?”

Nicole looked honestly hurt by the suggestion. “I’m not a tyrant, Mr. Stone! I’m not evil or cruel.”

“ _ This _ isn’t cruel?” Ezekiel exploded, taking a step forward. “Threatening to kill Baird right in front of us, having her beat up Flynn, forcing Cassandra to explain exactly how Baird will die? That’s sick and twisted. What did we--any of us--ever do to you?”

“Enough!” Nicole had finally lost her patience and her smile. The guards, who had all stood silently through this long exchange, nervously shifted behind her. “What’s it going to be, Flynn?” she turned her eyes back to him. “Baird’s life, or your freedom?”

Throughout the entire exchange, Flynn had actually been watching Eve, watching her subtle swaying and twitching. Her eyes remained blank and dead, but she never stopped muttering, “The necklace, the necklace.” There was something about her movements that seemed ever so slightly intentional. It was almost like she was trying to point or gesture toward Nicole. Now, as Nicole said his name, Flynn’s eyes finally turned to her, and he immediately realized what Eve had been trying to tell him this whole time:  _ Nicole’s _ necklace. Something about the small, dark, circular pendant was vitally important.

He finally climbed to his feet, and as he did so, Flynn felt a piece of paper crinkle in his bathrobe pocket. He slipped his hand in to determine what it was and realized that it was his drawing of the couple dancing--his drawing of that perfect moment between dream-him and dream-Eve. And just like that, a plan formed in Flynn’s mind. He knew what he had to do.

He really was the Librarian. He was going to save Eve and the others. He was going to be the hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to my electrician boyfriend for explaining the details of volts, amps, breaker boxes, and exactly how one would go about setting up the kind of electric fence Cassandra did. Any errors are my own and due to my English-major brain not fully understanding what he was telling me. (Also, I learned that his job is even more dangerous than I thought and that he could get himself electrocuted more easily than I thought.)
> 
> As always, my apologies for the delay between chapters. Any and all comments are greatly appreciated! <3


	12. The Four Cornerstones and the Keystone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn sets his plan in motion, but it will take all of the Librarians and their Guardian to bring back the Library and save the world.

“Cassandra,” Flynn said in a tone of surprising calm and command without breaking eye contact with Nicole, “lower the electric fence.”

There was a long moment of silence as the other three Librarians accepted their fate.

“Do it,” Stone added, pulling back from Cassandra and holding her at arm’s length. He looked into her eyes with a seriousness that she couldn’t mistake. 

“Do it,” Ezekiel added. “Do it for Baird.”

Cassandra nodded. “For Eve.” 

She looked around at the other three Librarians, and when her eyes landed on Flynn, he turned away from Nicole and fixed the redhead with a look that contained as much confidence as he could muster. He needed her to know that they weren't surrendering. Not yet. Not when there was hope. She must have seen what he needed her to see because she nodded back as though in response to a question.

With that, Cassandra walked over to the breaker box and unplugged the two wires she had connected to one of the circuits. The hum of the electric fence fell silent.

When she was done and moved to step away from the breaker box, Flynn subtly shook his head. He needed Cassandra to stay right where she was if this were to work. She got the message and made a small, subtle nod of her head again in response.

Now all that was left was provoking Nicole. Flynn smiled to himself; he had long been good at that.

“Now, Flynn,” Nicole said turning to him, a self-satisfied smirk on her face, “be a good boy and come out first.”

“No.”

Everyone turned to him at that simple pronouncement--even the orderlies, shock evident on their faces. Nicole’s smile faltered. “Excuse me?” she asked, as though she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“No,” Flynn repeated simply, putting his hands on his hips and gazing around the enclosure like a king examining his castle. “I think I quite like it in here. I mean, we’re all safe and secure and definitely not going anywhere, right?”

“Mate, what are you--” Ezekiel began.

“Flynn, what the heck--” Stone cut him off.

“You know, with a little redecorating, this place might even be cozy,” Flynn added, nodding in approval. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he checked Nicole’s reaction, which was quickly becoming murderous.  _ Good. It won't take much more to fully wind her up. _

“What do you say, dear?” Flynn asked, stepping forward and pulling Eve away from the now-silent fence and into a traditional waltz position. She went willingly, though her left arm dangled lifelessly at her side. “Shall we move in and make this our new home? Perhaps throw up some curtains and a new coat of paint?”

Flynn began waltzing Eve around the enclosure, humming loudly to himself in 3/4 time. It wasn't exactly what he had imagined when he promised himself he would dance with Eve after they escaped, but it would have to do for now. Plus, it seemed to be having the intended effect. Nicole looked like she was going to explode in four, three, two...

“What are you playing at, Flynn?” she demanded, cold fury in her voice. “You’ve lost. The Library is gone. Baird is mine. This is  _ my _ world. There’s no rescue coming, no clever last-minute escape, nothing I’ve overlooked. This is the end of the line.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Flynn said, leading Eve closer to the other Librarians.

“Flynn, what the heck are you doing?” Stone stage-whispered as the pair waltzed by him.

“He’s lost it,” Ezekiel said. “He’s finally really lost it.”

“Flynn--” Cassandra began, her voice quavering with confusion and concern.

“ _ Stop this at once! _ ” Nicole shouted, silencing all the others. 

Flynn alone ignored her and continued to waltz the lifeless, responseless Eve around the fenced-in section in time to his off-key humming as though nothing had happened. “And one, two, three. One, two, three,” he lilted. He chanced turning Eve under his arm and was pleasantly surprised that she followed his lead perfectly without breaking their rhythm.

This had the intended effect of incensing Nicole further. “I said, stop!” Without thinking, she reached out, flung open the gate in the fence, and marched into the enclosure, stopping just a foot inside. 

_ Gotcha!  _ Flynn thought as he continued to lead his Guardian around in a tuneless waltz. 

“Eve,” Nicole snapped, “to me. Now.”

Finally, Eve responded, breaking away from Flynn and walking over to Nicole to stand just beside her. Flynn let her go, but followed, stopping just a few feet away from Nicole. He thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked back on her heels, smiling. He knew this pose particularly annoyed her.

“Baird must not have hit you hard enough,” she sneered.

Flynn laughed and gripped his stomach, which was still tender. “Oh no, I don’t think that’s the problem,” he said. “She's always had a good left hook.”

Nicole smiled mirthlessly. Her eyes were dangerous and hard. “This is how it’s going to go, Flynn. You and your fellow Librarians will go through this gate. You will all receive a permanent reset and spend the rest of your lives here, in The Institute, where you will never be a thorn in my side again.”

“How can you be sure, though?” Flynn cut in, throwing his arms wide with a dramatic sweep. “Have you ever actually tested it on someone before? Maybe you'll end up bringing back our memories entirely! Maybe you'll accidentally kill us!” He spun in place, his voice rising to a shout on that last statement, edging a bit closer to Nicole and Eve as he did so.

“Oh, I can assure you that it works,” Nicole said with cold certainty. “You will all be well cared for. You will lack for nothing: food, clothing, medical care, all the comforts of life. And you’ll never again be bothered by these painful ideas and memories that have led you to these desperate acts. In exchange--”

Ezekiel cut her off, “That’s not a life, though! That’s merely existing!”

Nicole silenced him with a glare, but the interruption allowed Flynn to inch even closer to Nicole. “As I was saying, in exchange, I’ll let Baird live. After a few more weeks of observation here to ensure that she’s rid of all her own memories, she’ll be allowed to leave this facility and come back to work--with me.” Nicole turned her entire focus to Flynn, halting his minuscule progress forward. “Flynn, Eve’s going to be  _ my _ Guardian now. Do you understand?”

“Why do you need a Guardian?” Stone demanded.

Flynn moved closer.

Cassandra's soft voice cut in from her position by the breaker box: “In the other world--the Library world--the Guardian protected the Librarian.” She spoke as though she were figuring things out as she went along. “In this world without the Library, without knowledge and magic, The Company has taken the Library’s place. And that means the director of The Company would be like the Librarian.”

Nicole nodded like a proud teacher. “Very good. Without The Company, the world would cease to function, just like the old world ceased to function without the Library. And just as the Library needed the Librarian, The Company needs me. And thus, I need a Guardian. Maybe I’ll even make Baird immortal, just to keep her with me forever,” Nicole smiled, and Flynn felt a knife twist in his gut, though he wasn't sure why.

“Like hell you are!” Stone growled.

“Now do you see, Flynn?  _ I’m _ the Librarian here. I’m the one who controls what is and is not known in this world. I’m the ultimate authority, not some ancient, obsolete institution that demands my service and my obedience, demands that I lay everything down for it with nothing,  _ nothing _ in return!” Nicole was shouting now, more incensed than Flynn had ever seen her in this world. “And Baird is  _ mine _ .”

Before anyone could respond, Nicole pulled Eve close, whispered something to her, and suddenly, the two were locked in a passionate kiss. The surprise of it brought everyone up short, especially Flynn. Was this meant to be a punishment for him? Or had there been an attraction between the two that he had missed? Whatever message Nicole intended to send by kissing Eve, it only confused everyone around them. If nothing else, it forced Flynn to pause in his slow, cautious advance on Nicole and the necklace she wore.

Even more surprisingly, Eve actually deepened the kiss, delicately running her hands up Nicole’s sides, grazing her breasts with her fingertips, and cupping the back of her neck.

As she did so, Flynn suddenly tensed.  _ The necklace _ , he realized.  _ She's making a move on the necklace, too! _

Then, everything seemed to happen all at once. Eve ripped the necklace off of Nicole’s chest, stepped back, and kicked her squarely in the stomach with a grunting shout, sending her hurtling backward out of the enclosure. Nicole stumbled and fell hard onto the concrete floor, taking down three of her guards with her, all while screaming a pained and furious, “ _ No _ !” 

With her free hand, Eve slammed the gate shut, and shouted, “Cassandra, now.” The redhead immediately obeyed, reconnecting the two wires to the circuit in the fuse box. The electric fence hummed to life again.

“Eve, throw that necklace back to me this instant!” Nicole yelled, climbing back to her feet.

Against her will, Eve’s arm shot back, preparing to throw the necklace back over the fence. “Flynn!” she shouted, but he was already moving. His hand wrapped around hers and pulled it down to her side, spinning her around to look at him.

And at that moment, as his fingers wrapped around Eve’s and they both grasped the necklace still warm from Nicole’s skin, it was like someone had lifted a veil from Flynn’s eyes. The world itself didn't change in any meaningful way: everything still seemed like it had been painted over in a pasty beige color. He and Eve were both still dressed in thin, hospital-issue garments. Their hair was messy, they were both dirty and sweaty and bruised, and his face was bloody and scruffy from not having shaved in several days.

Yet as Eve spun to face him and their eyes met, all of Flynn’s half-remembered dreams--his real memories--came back into focus with instant clarity. All of their adventures together, their travels around the world, both as a couple and with the larger team. All of his studies and knowledge, all of her wisdom and strength. 

He remembered the first time they met, her staring at him like a madman in a German steam tunnel, yet still trusting him enough to follow his directions and offer her own advice in return. She looked like a goddess in standard-issue military fatigues, he had been covered in dirt and grime, and he had recognized almost instantly that he could so easily fall in love with her if given the chance.

He remembered the first time he saw her in the Library and the feeling of his gut dropping when Charlene told him that this blonde military goddess was going to be his new Guardian. And rather than backing down or asking for explanations, she had charged straight ahead into the unknown with him right from the start. He knew this was a bad idea, knew that he had to stay away from her, knew that if she stayed, he would end up falling head over heels in love with her, and that as a result, it wouldn't end well for her, as it hadn't for anyone else he had ever cared for.

He remembered the first time she kissed him, her lips soft against his and the pear scent of her shampoo short-circuiting his brain and bringing it to a grinding halt. The surprise of the moment rendered him speechless and incoherent and so very happy that she felt the same way he did. He wasn't sure how he was even able to put one foot in front of the other to walk away, but he knew if he didn’t right then, he would never be able to later.

He remembered the first time she took him to bed, her hands certain as they unbuttoned his vest and shirt, but her eyes still hesitant as she looked up at him through her lashes. His hands curled around hers, stilling them against his chest, slowing her down. He kissed her deeply, trying to say everything he always wanted to and always messed up so badly. For once, he succeeded.

He remembered when they agreed to tether to the Library and literally spend the rest of eternity together, as they sat on his bed in his Library apartment, her hand finding his as they both stared down at the floor in silence, overwhelmed by the enormity of what they were contemplating. Throwing caution to the wind, knowing it was now or never, he stood before her and then formally sank down to one knee in front of her, asking her to spend the rest of her admittedly very long life with him. And he remembered her laughing and crying and nodding and gasping all at once as she slid down from the bed and onto the floor beside him. She kissed him, agreeing to it all--to tether to the Library, to become immortal, and, most importantly, to do it all with him.

And he remembered them dancing together in Buckingham Palace, her in that stunning green dress, him slowly bleeding out--slowly dying--feeling his remaining minutes slip away and facing the painful realization that he was already in love with her and that he wouldn't be able to do anything about it, and so all he could do was focus on the present moment, on the feeling of her in his arms, and on trying to pack an entire lifetime into that moment. It's probably why he was able to remember that one moment in time and how alive it made him feel, even after he forgot everything else.

As all of these memories rushed back over him, Eve was staring back at him with the exact same expression that he wore, a look of wonder and delight and understanding. “Flynn,” she said in a little breathless, gasping laugh, “it’s you! I mean, it’s you-you! And it’s me-me! It’s us!”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, a huge grin on his face. His voice took on a tone of wonder as his eyes focused more fully on her. “You’re Colonel Eve Baird. NATO Counterterrorism. The greatest Guardian in the history of the Library. And we were going to tether with the Library and spent the rest of eternity annoying each other.” He ended with a shy smile and soft laugh as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear with his free hand.

“Yeah,” she nodded, with eyes only for him, even as Nicole continued to shout orders at her from just a few feet away and the other three Librarians shouted questions, wanting to know what was going on, “and you’re Flynn Carson. A student of learning with twenty-two degrees. And the Librarian--number 167, to be exact. And a damn frustrating partner at times.”

They both knew what she was referring to. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave. Did I tell you about the bowling ball to the face, because that really hurt--”

Before he could finish, Eve crushed her lips to his, sending his entire world spinning and shutting off all coherent thought. It was like all of their past kisses now slotted together, one after another, to form this one. They were back. They were whole again. And they would never be parted again. They both felt it. 

When they finally broke apart, Flynn was truly shocked that they were still in a dingy cement-lined basement in perspiration-scented pajamas with Nicole and her guards shouting at them.

The other three Librarians converged on them now, looking more confused than ever.

“Cassandra!” Eve exclaimed with real warmth as she saw them come over. She reached out with her free hand, the one not grasping the necklace and held in place by Flynn, and embraced the other woman as though she hadn’t seen her in months. “Stone!” she repeated the ritual, adding an elbow bump that he seemed to return automatically. “And Ezekiel!” she finished, embracing the young thief and ending with a ruffle of his hair.

“Umm, what’s going on?” Cassandra asked.

“Yeah. One minute Baird’s comatose, then she’s brainwashed and kicking the crap out of Flynn, then she turns on Nicole, and now you two are making out,” Ezekiel added. “And, umm, eww, by the way. That was gross.”

Eve rolled her eyes before answering Cassandra’s question: “I don’t know. I think she slipped me some kind of mind-control drug while I was in here. I can still feel it, but it’s easier to fight with this.” She raised her and Flynn’s joined hands that held the necklace. “It’s an anti-alternate reality charm. It’s how she was able to know and remember so much.”

“And how we can now remember,” Flynn added.

This whole time, Nicole was screaming at Eve to throw the necklace back over the fence, screaming at her guards to find a way to bring the fence down, screaming in frustration and rage. Her calm, cold control of only moments earlier had vanished into red-eyed fury. Her minions dashed all around her, hurrying to follow her orders but not sure how to do so. They had never had to come up with a solution to a problem like this before.

“Here, you too,” Flynn said. He took hold of Eve’s wrist with his free hand, holding it in place so that she wouldn’t be compelled to throw the necklace away. He could still feel her hand shaking in his as he fought to physically restrain her and as she fought the urge to follow Nicole’s orders. Her hand secure, he lifted his palm away from Eve’s, displaying the pendant. Surprisingly, the hazy veil of confusion didn’t descend again, blocking out his memories. Whether it was due to his contact with Eve or just the fact that he had so recently recalled everything, he didn’t know and didn't care. “Everyone, touch the pendant,” he commanded.

Stone didn’t hesitate, placing the tips of his fingers on the pendant. He took a gasping deep breath and then looked up at Flynn and Eve with new recognition in his eyes. “Hey guys,” he whispered, “long time, no see.”

That’s all it took. In an instant, Ezekiel and Cassandra were also crowded around them, also pressing their fingertips to the small charm in their Guardian’s palm, their fingers intertwining.

“You guys! It’s us! It’s you! We’re back!” Ezekiel crowed.

“I know how physics works again! I mean,  _ really _ know!” Cassandra gasped as her stare became distant, like she was looking at something far, far away.

“But how is this going to help us?” Stone asked, even as the shouting chaos behind them increased. “We remember the Library and who we are now, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“Maybe it can,” Eve said, her voice thoughtful.

Flynn had to admit that he hadn’t been able to think, to plan beyond this point. He hadn’t even been sure what the necklace did exactly, and he was dismayed to find that even though they now all had their memories back, it hadn’t brought back the Library. Clearly being able to remember it wasn’t enough.

“At the very end, after…” Eve trailed off, her voice going soft before she gathered herself and plunged onwards. “The Library’s existence depends not just on our knowledge of it, but on our  _ believing  _ in it. Our faith, our belief that it’s important and valuable is what gives it life. Nicole manipulated us, all of us, to destroy that belief.”

Eve paused at this, and Cassandra turned even paler. The other three Librarians looked stricken. After a moment though, Cassandra nodded at Eve and some kind of unspoken understanding passed between the two women. At that, Stone placed a comforting hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, while Ezekiel wrapped an arm around her waist in a side-hug. Flynn was suddenly very much aware that he had missed something--something important--after Nicole had kidnapped him. And that Eve had been the one holding them all together as best she could through it all.

Eve continued, “The only place the Library now exists is in our memories. But it’s not enough to remember the Library. We need to believe in it again.”

“And it’s going to take all of us,” Cassandra said, suddenly resolute, as though she had remembered something important. “The four cornerstones of the Library of Alexandria, remember?” At the blank stares that met her, she fluttered her free hand in front of her face, as though trying to clear away some junk data clouding her vision. “This all started with someone stealing one of the four cornerstones, remember? Well, if we’re going to bring back the Library, we need new cornerstones.”

Flynn’s thoughts started racing. “Of course! Cassandra, you’re a genius,” he gushed, leaning forward to press a paternal kiss to the top of her head. Cassandra nodded and blushed, her eyes dancing, clearly glad that he understood and could carry the thought forward. “ _ We’re _ the cornerstones--metaphorically speaking, of course. And there just happens to be four Librarians. It’s like it’s fate!”

Eve cocked her head to the side and gave him an amused smile. “And I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”

He gave her a crooked grin in return, then realized something. “But I never lost faith in the Library,” he said, confused. “Nicole kidnapped me from it, but I never lost faith. So how does that fit?”

“Our dreams!” Ezekiel exclaimed. “You’re the reason we all dreamed about the Library--”

“--and had the memories that led us to each other!” Stone cut in, grinning.

“You’re the first cornerstone,” Cassandra said, nodding.

Eve beamed at him. “Okay, that’s a start. But you three need to believe in it again, too,” she said, looking around at the others.

There was a pause, during which the shouting on the other side of the fence increased. Flynn turned his head to see the guards part and allow an electrical crew to run in and start examining the fence. They were running out of time.

“Ahhhhh, the Library was the first place I ever felt safe enough to be myself,” Stone shouted in one long string of words, his eyes on the workers beyond the fence. He turned back to the circle and continued more calmly, “I was so used to hiding who I was, I had no idea how wonderful it could be to finally step out of the shadows. To shine as myself, not as someone else. The Library helped me do that.” He paused, then added, “You all did.”

A distant roaring started in Flynn’s ears that had nothing to do with the crowd behind him.

“I never really had friends,” Ezekiel confessed, surprising them all with his sudden honesty, “or a family. I mean, technically I had a family, but they never really felt like it. The Library gave me both.”

The roaring got louder, blocking out the noise from around them.

Cassandra swallowed hard, then met everyone’s eyes one by one. “The Library gave me everything. Friends, family… love.” Stone squeezed her shoulder in support, and Cassandra pressed on. “It gave me magic and hope and a life I could never have dreamt of. It gave me life.”

Flynn could no longer hear anything outside the small circle they formed, all clustered around Eve’s hand, but something compelled him to look over his shoulder once more. Just on the other side of the fence, Nicole stared at him with so much hurt and anger in her face that it burned him.

Flynn now remembered what he had done to her to inspire such hatred: he had never gone back for her. He hadn’t even known she was alive, and he hadn’t tried to find out. He had assumed. He had given up on her. But the Library--from Nicole’s point of view, the Library had abandoned her even more completely. The Library had existed there, in the past, with her. It could have sent her a letter, could have reached out to her somehow. And it had been silent for centuries. They had both abandoned her.

And now, she was looking in from the outside yet again, watching Flynn and his ‘family’ from beyond bars. The naked pain in her eyes hurt even more than it had when he had first laid eyes on her in the basement cell beneath the Library. He had to fix this somehow. He had to make things right. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

Flynn looked back into his circle, his family, his home. A wind from nowhere stirred around them, whipping their hair and garments. He looked at each of them in turn: his LITs, his Librarians-in-Training, his Librarians. And they truly were his Librarians now. They could all handle the job of Librarian just as well as he could. And together, they were even better.

His eyes then turned to Eve: his Guardian, his friend, his partner. She smiled at him, and he realized that her hand was no longer trembling. He released her wrist, and it stayed in place. She was no longer compelled to throw the necklace back to Nicole. He put his fingers back on top of the pendant, alongside the other Librarians. 

“Magic is real,” Eve shouted above the roar. Her smile held so much conviction.

As the dingy world around them melted away, slowly being replaced by the bright, colorful Library that they all knew and loved, it came to him: the four Librarians might be the new cornerstones of the Library, but Eve was the keystone, supporting them and holding them all together.

He was home. They all were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support! As always, any and all comments are greatly appreciated.


	13. Epilogue: Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Library fully restored, Flynn and Eve find some surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure fluff, plain and simple. Basically, I needed to wrap everything up with a bow and give Flynn and Eve the happily ever after they deserve after putting them through so much pain.

Much later... 

After Flynn used the Toaster of Albuquerque to go back in time. After he changed history and wiped out that whole painful timeline in a stunt that Judson would have disapproved of. After Flynn woke up weeks in his own past and realized that only he and Eve remembered everything that had taken place. After Jenkins had appeared and almost brought Eve to tears with the fact that he was still very much alive and very much immortal and very much as grumpy as ever. After Flynn had surprised Eve with his suggestion that they tether right then and there, during what should have been just another rehearsal. After they had tethered with the Library and said their vows and kissed--not an official part of the ceremony, but one they had added. After Ezekiel had called in a favor and gotten them all--even Jenkins--a large table at the best restaurant in town at the last minute in honor of the “wedding.” After Stone had insisted they then all go out for drinks and dancing because “the happy couple” needed to have their “first dance.” After they had that dance--a waltz, ironically enough--and Flynn had stared so deeply into Eve’s eyes, trying to say everything he couldn’t after all they’d been through. After they’d returned to the Library, and Flynn had insisted on carrying Eve over the building’s threshold and up to their apartment--they’d long ago stopped thinking of them as “his” apartment in the Library and “her” apartment outside, calling both spaces “theirs.” After he’d set her down in their room and she’d turned to him and they’d both realized that this was the first time they’d truly been alone together in weeks. After they crashed together and tugged each others’ clothing off and tumbled down onto their bed and got lost in each other, exorcising the demons of their forced separation and that other, awful world. Then, and only then, were they able to lie together, naked and tired and boneless and real, and actually think about what had happened.

They lay side-by-side on their backs, close together and staring up at the recessed ceiling as they caught their breath. Flynn indulged in the quiet luxury of the moment: in the feeling of Eve’s warm skin pressed up against his, the scent of her shampoo and their mingled sex, the warm colors of their bedroom. After spending a lifetime in Nicole’s beige world, this was almost too much. If it weren’t for his post-coital haze, Flynn was sure he would have been in sensory overload. 

He rolled to his side and propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at his… Guardian? tethering partner? wife? They really needed to decide on a term. Personally, Flynn favored ‘wife.’  _ What about ‘Guardwife’? _ He mused. _ It’s kind of like the legendary Viking shieldmaidens.  _ Flynn momentarily got lost in thoughts of Eve as a Viking warrior before he heard her smiling voice calling him back to the present moment, “Flynn? Flynn, you in there?”

“Sorry,” he laughed, shaking his head to clear it. He looked down at her, her up-do crushed against the pillow and the sweat still drying on her skin. “I think I spent too long alone in that padded cell,” he joked. His effort at lightness backfired, and he saw her face fall.

“I hated that place,” she whispered, pulling the sheet up higher to cover her bare breasts and hugging it close as though she were suddenly cold. “I hate everything about that world. I hate what Nicole did…” She trailed off, and Flynn pulled her close and lay down so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would make her less upset about what had happened in that other world. He knew from past experience that Eve hated mind control of any kind--she had apologized more than a dozen times for what she’d said and done under the influence of the Apple of Discord all those years ago. Though, to be fair, he was probably never going to hear the end of his “show a little more skin” comment. “I hope we forget about it all, the way we forgot about this world,” she added softly as she gently ran her fingers through his sparse chest hair.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever forget that other world,” Flynn admitted, stroking her back. “I suspect we won’t, just because it’s now written into our timelines. It’s what caused us to go back in time and change Nicole’s own history and what prompted us to tether early, so if we forget, we won’t understand why we did that--”

“Argh, I  _ hate _ time travel!” Eve exclaimed, burying her face in his shoulder. Still, he could feel her smile against his skin.

Flynn grinned. At least for the moment, he had succeeded in distracting her. “I dreamed of you,” he said, changing the conversation’s tone and direction. “You and the Library. And the others and Jenkins and Charlene and Judson and everything about our normal world. But it was always just a dream.”

Now it was Eve’s turn to pull back slightly, prop herself up on an elbow, and look down at Flynn thoughtfully, her eyes compelling him to continue.

“I can remember my whole life in that other world. I grew up in The Institute--I don’t know how young I was when Nicole took me--but I remember being a little boy and a teenager and an adult in that place. My whole life, I dreamed of this world--of you. And I wrote it all down so I wouldn’t forget!”

Eve nodded. “I seem to remember a rather crazy, disheveled-looking man saying that he ‘remembers.’”

“I believe your exact words were ‘nice’ and ‘cute,’” he corrected with a lazy grin as he rolled his head to the side to meet her twinkling eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I also called you ‘crazy.’”

“‘Completely crazy,’ as a matter of fact,” Flynn said, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Well, two outta three ain’t bad.”

She laughed and swatted at his shoulder, and Flynn settled back down, pulling her close again. Eve settled into his arms, more at ease now. 

“So who were you--in the other world, what did you do before you ended up in The Institute?” he asked, honestly curious. He had seen Ezekiel and Stone on TV a number of times--Ezekiel as the host of  _ I Fell Down! _ and Stone doing commercials for his used-car lot. He didn’t know what Cassandra had done, but he was sure it was something that kept her far, far away from physics and math.

“I--I didn’t do anything,” she answered hesitantly, as though trying to work out the answer for herself. “I didn’t have a life in that world before. I just… appeared there.”

Flynn turned his head to look at her, surprised. Based on what Nicole had said, he’d assumed that Eve had already served as the other woman’s bodyguard in some capacity.

“I was the last one left here, in the Library. The others resigned and walked away. I tried to hold it all together, but I couldn’t. And then Nicole appeared--”

“Here? In the Library?”

“Yeah. She explained it all. She told me how she’d been planning to bring down the Library for centuries, how she’d manipulated us--manipulated me--how she’d arranged it all so that the Library would fall. And it worked.” Her voice sounded so sad, so lost, but then she pulled herself together again and continued: “I was the only one left in the Library when it vanished. And I remember that. I remember it melting away into a parking lot. And there I was, Eve Baird, Guardian, trying to hold on and remember the Library in a world where it had never existed.”

“And you did amazingly. You found the others and got them to remember. Without them--without you--we could never have brought the Library back.”

Eve smiled softly, acknowledging the praise, though it was clear she wasn’t looking for it at the moment. They fell quiet then, with Flynn still gently stroking her back. Eve’s fingers on his chest gradually stilled, and Flynn assumed Eve had drifted off to sleep when her soft voice murmured, “I missed you.”

He hugged her tightly. “I missed you, too. Did I mention that I was kidnapped? And hit in the face with a bowling ball?”

Eve laughed. “Several times.”

He rolled them over so that Eve was lying on her back and he was crouching over her on all fours. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you ever had reason to believe I’d left. I’m sorry you had to go through that. But I am never leaving you or the Library ever again,” he assured her, putting as much assurance and conviction into his voice as possible.

In response, Eve pulled him down and into a kiss full of passion and promise. She understood.

When they separated, Flynn pulled back and looked at Eve in sudden memory. “Eve, if this is several weeks ago, does that mean we still have that mocha-fudge ice cream in the freezer?”

She laughed, throwing her head back in delighted mirth at the sudden, inane change of topic.

“See, time travel isn’t all bad. We get to eat that ice cream all over again!” he said proudly.

This only caused Eve to laugh harder, and Flynn climbed off of her so that she could have full lung capacity for her belly laughs. He didn’t find it as funny as she did, but suddenly, he found himself giggling, too, which quickly turned into full-fledged laughter. Soon, they were both clutching their sides and howling with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. Flynn wasn’t even sure what they were laughing at anymore, but part of him suspected that they were having some kind of post-traumatic stress release moment. When their laughter finally died down and they had wiped the tears from their eyes, they both lay there, smiling at each other for a long, long time. 

It’s one thing to save the world and get married and become immortal and have really amazing sex. That’s all wonderful and grand and heroic, like something out of a fairytale. But it’s another thing to collapse in hysterical laughter about absolutely nothing with your lover and best friend when you’re both completely naked and tired and more than a little punchy. That’s real. That’s human. That’s true.

Suddenly, energy came back into Flynn’s limbs. “Okay, ice cream time!” he announced, hopping up from the bed.

Grinning, Eve started to follow him, but he stopped her, “No, stay here. I’ll bring it in.”

He spied his dressing gown on a chair by the door and quickly donned it. To his surprise, one of the pockets was weighed down with something.  _ Did I leave something in here all those weeks ago and just forgot about it?  _ As Flynn slid his hand into the weighted pocket, his breath caught: his fingers brushed a folded piece of paper and a cold metal necklace. He froze in place, staring up at Eve, his eyes wide in surprise.

“What? What is it?” she asked, sitting up, concern written all over her features.

Flynn drew the necklace out of his pocket. Nicole’s anti-alternate reality charm swung in the air by its chain. Seeing it here, in the cozy reality of the Library, set him on edge. It made the events of the other world less like a bad dream and more real. Ignoring her own nudity, Eve stumbled out of bed and came over to Flynn, eyes wide. She took the necklace from him and stared at it. She must have had similar thoughts, because she muttered under her breath, “It’s real.” She shook her head to clear it and asked, “But how is it  _ here _ ?”

Flynn shook his head in confusion, bringing one hand up to his face as he considered the object in front of him. “I don’t know. This doesn’t make any sense. We last saw it in the future, so it shouldn’t be here, now--”

“--in your robe,” Eve finished for him. “Maybe it’s like the four cornerstones: because we changed the timelines, Nicole never stole this artifact, so it has a completely different history, and I  _ really _ hate time travel!” she finished in one breath.

Flynn chuckled, considering. That made sense, but how it came to be in his dressing gown didn’t. “We’ll have to ask Jenkins about it tomorrow.”

As Eve walked over to the bedside table and carefully placed the necklace on it, Flynn slipped his hand back into his pocket and felt the piece of paper. He’d been so stunned by the necklace, he’d forgotten the other item. As his fingers closed around it, Flynn smiled to himself; he knew what this was.

He pulled out and unfolded a drawing of two figures dancing. Although it wasn’t a particularly good drawing, his heart got stuck in his throat just looking at it. The figures didn’t seem to be as bursting with life and energy as he recalled them being in that other world, but as he looked up from the drawing and into Eve’s confused eyes, he understood why. In this world, it wasn’t a dream; it was real. Eve, that green dress, Buckingham Palace, their dance as he slowly bled out and slowly realized he was in love with her, all of it. He didn’t need a drawing and a dream to remember it.

“What's--” Eve started to ask before he pulled her into his arms again and just held her, burying his face in her shoulder. She responded immediately, her arms going around his back. He was suddenly just so grateful that she was real, that she was alive, and that she was here with him. 

“You’re real,” he breathed into her neck, trying to keep it from coming out as a sob of relief.

“I’m real,” she repeated, hugging him back just as fiercely.

When they finally separated, Flynn realized that his eyes were wet, and he tried to dab at them subtly. Fortunately, Eve was curious about what had caused this outburst, and she took the paper from him. She examined it, and when she looked up at him again, he saw that her eyes were wet, too.

“Did you draw this in the other world?"

Flynn nodded. “I dreamed it. Just once, and it was hazy. I wasn't even sure if I was one of the figures in it. But it felt more real than anything ever did in that place. I drew it so I wouldn’t forget--so that  _ she _ wouldn’t be able to take it from me entirely.”

“But I thought you said you remembered this world.” Eve mused, studying the image. Then, she looked up and saw his face. Whatever she saw there was clearly glum because she immediately changed her tone. “Or was that just the ‘completely crazy’ part of you talking?”

Flynn smiled in spite of himself. “No, that was definitely the ‘nice and cute’ part. I was able to remember things because I drew them--just like this. I had a whole wall hidden behind the pads in my cell just covered with my drawings--of the Library, the others, Jenkins, Judson, Charlene, Cal… and you. I had a whole section dedicated to you.”

“Sounds kind of stalkerish.” Despite her words, she smiled and draped her arms languidly over his shoulders, the paper fluttering against his shoulder blades. Flynn’s arms automatically circled her waist. “Is that why you approached me on Level 2? You were trying to make me remember?”

“No, that was…” Flynn gestured grandly behind Eve’s back, looking for a word. “...fate.” At her raised eyebrows, he hastily explained: “I don’t know why I sat down beside you. Maybe it was your yellow. But in my dreams, I could never see you clearly. I didn’t even know your name until you told me in the common area on Level 2. But you were always there, whispering to me to keep going, telling me that you were coming for me.”

At that, Eve’s eyes grew soft and affectionate.

“Whenever I had a dream, I tried to draw what I’d seen. That way, when Nicole erased my memory again--” At Eve’s horrified expression, he smiled sadly. “Yeah, she did that a lot. I remembered too much, thought too much, imagined too much. I caused her a lot of problems. And every time, she had my memory erased. But it didn’t matter, because I still had that hidden wall of drawings, and with them, I could always recover what I’d lost. So I never fully lost the Library--or you.”

At that, Eve’s lips crashed against his. His responded, tightening his hold on her bare waist and allowing her tongue to slip past his lips. He felt the heat rise between them again, and just when he thought they would go crashing back to the bed, Eve slowly pulled back, slowing them down again. She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes, and he followed suit.

“I wish I could have shown you my wall,” Flynn found himself saying. “I drew so much. But when it was time to escape, I didn’t dare take anything. Only this…” he drew back and retrieved the paper from her hand. “I couldn't bear to part with it. It felt… different somehow. More personal. There were so many emotions tied up in it. Emotions that I’d never felt in that world… until I saw you sitting in Level 2 and shook your hand and felt so  _ certain _ that I knew you somehow.”

“At that point, I couldn’t remember anything before coming to The Institute,” Eve confessed, “so I assumed I’d met you before I was admitted.” She suddenly grinned. “You want to know what my first thought was?”

Flynn nodded in expectation.

“I thought that maybe you were a former lover. That’s how familiar you felt. And then I immediately dismissed the thought, because who forgets a lover?” while Eve’s voice started off warm at the memory, it quickly turned sad.

They were both silent for a moment, and then Flynn visibly shook himself. “Okay, enough of this. This is basically our wedding night, after all! We should eat, drink, and make merry!” He ended with an emphatic air punch.

It had the desired effect because Eve laughed. “I think we already did all three of those things. But I agree with the overall sentiment.” She took the drawing back from him again and gently placed it on top of the necklace on the bedside table, lovingly smoothing out the creases. 

Flynn had no idea how either item had come to exist in this world, but he knew that was a puzzle for another day. And there would be plenty of other days. Endless other days, in fact. For now, he was content to laugh and eat ice cream and hold Eve in his arms.

***

Cassandra, Ezekiel, and Stone had given them strict instructions not to show their faces at work the next day, so when Flynn and Eve entered the Annex at 11:30 am, they both knew they were going to catch an earful from their former protegees.

Sure enough, Cassandra, decked out in a mint-green cardigan and watermelon-red dress, raced from her spot at the central table to block their way the second they walked in the door, her arms spread wide. “Uh-uh! Tethermoon-Enforcement Committee rules: you two can’t come into work today!”

“We’re not calling it that!” Stone shouted over his shoulder from the table.

“‘Tethermoon’?” Flynn and Eve asked in unison over Stone.

“And I told you, Cass, we’re not a committee!” the Oklahoman continued.

“ _ Star Wars _ reference!” Ezekiel crowed from his perch leaning back in a chair and looking at his phone. He glanced up at the confused couple and explained, “They’ve been on this all morning. I keep telling them that you two will never take a vacation, not even to go on a honeymoon.”

“Tethermoon!” Cassandra cried in annoyance, turning back to the young thief.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope,” Eve said, walking fully into the room. “We’re not calling it that. And for your information, Ezekiel, Flynn and I  _ are _ planning on going on a vacation--at Christmas.”

That morning, over coffee and toast, they had discussed how they’d have to go through the next few weeks’ events exactly as before--even all the punching while trapped inside Eve’s favorite movie,  _ The Lost, the Found, and the Looking _ , which Flynn was not exactly looking forward to. This repeating events exactly as before included their going on vacation with “Nick,” as Eve still insisted on calling Santa.

Flynn took advantage of the shocked silence to come up behind Eve and announce, “I’ve actually got something for Jenkins, so if you’ll excuse me…” 

No one paid him any attention, as the other three had immediately started peppering Eve with questions about where they were going on their “Tethermoon.”

Flynn slipped into Jenkins’s lab and found the old knight hard at work on yet another of his seemingly endless experiments. Before Flynn could say anything though, Jenkins looked up at him and pulled back his safety goggles, saying, “Ah yes, Mr. Carsen, just the person I was hoping to see today, despite the best efforts of the ‘Tethermoon-Enforcement Committee’ out there.” He leaned close and added in a pained voice, “Miss Cillian has been brainstorming names all morning.”

Flynn nodded and pulled the necklace out of his pocket. “Actually, I just wanted to--”

“Ah yes, the Reality Pendant! Just what I was looking for! In all of the surprises yesterday, I completely forgot to ask you about it after you returned from your mission,” Jenkins said, moving forward and taking the necklace.

Flynn tried to cover his surprise. “Yes, I must have left it in my room when I was changing for the ceremony.”

“I trust the recovery went well?” Jenkins asked, already turning away and examining the necklace. “Miss Noone is always very careful about where she leaves artifacts for us to recover and take back to the Library.”

At that, Flynn, who had been moving to lean casually against the countertop, suddenly stumbled right into it and nearly collapsed. “Miss Noone? As in, Nicole?” Flynn wasn’t exactly sure why he was surprised; after all, just the day before--and several hundred years in the past--he had asked her to gather artifacts for the Library.

Jenkins turned back toward Flynn, confusion on his face. “Yes, Mr. Carsen. Nicole Noone, your former Guardian, who, for the past few hundred years has been an invaluable resource for the Library in helping us secure artifacts on occasion.”

“Yes, of course she is!” Flynn exclaimed, clapping his hands together in excitement.  _ She did it. She really did it. Not only did she change history, but she changed herself!  _ He was so proud of her. Switching abruptly to forced casualness, Flynn slid his hands in his pockets and asked, “So, umm, by the way, when did you last see her? Nicole, I mean.”

At this, Jenkins’s expression because even more confused. “No one’s seen Miss Noone in several hundred years. She wants it that way, as she explained in the note she left with the very first artifact she delivered to the Library in 1554. Of course, technically speaking, the last anyone saw her was fourteen years ago when she was thrown back in time.” Whatever expression was on Flynn’s face prompted Jenkins to step forward and add, “Mr. Carsen, are you all right? While I am very pleased that you and Colonel Baird decided to proceed with the tethering ceremony, you have both been acting very strange. Did something happen to either of you that you would like to discuss?”

Flynn forced his face into an expression of blank innocence and shook his head vehemently, a look Eve often said made him look rather clueless. “Happen? No, nothing happened. Nothing at all. I think maybe I just got hit on the head a little bit during that last mission. In fact, now that you mention it, maybe I should go have Eve check me out. You know, for a concussion, or something.” During this entire speech, Flynn was easing himself toward the doors. When he was close enough, he made a quick break for the exit, hoping that Jenkins wouldn’t follow him.

He didn’t.

Back out in the Annex, Flynn was relieved to see that the self-appointed “Tethermoon-Enforcement Committee” had moved on from harassing Eve to debating the comparative merits of various wedding scenes in movies, books, and mythologies. He bypassed them, hoping to avoid getting sucked into their conversation, and headed toward Eve, who was busy at their desk with something. 

He came up to Eve just as she was securing the back of a picture frame. “What did Jenkins say?” she asked quietly, never taking her eyes off her project.

“Apparently, I ‘retrieved’ the necklace yesterday before the ceremony.”

She looked up at that. “And why did I hear those air quotes around the word ‘retrieved’?”

Flynn leaned in closer and lowered his voice even further. “Because apparently, one of the Library’s best--if very secretive--operatives, Nicole Noone, left it somewhere for me to find.”

Flynn wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, but it wasn’t the soft, warm smile that suddenly graced Eve’s face. “Good,” she said simply. “I’m glad she and the Library made their peace.” With that, she turned back to the picture frame in front of her, securing the last clasp in place.

“What’s that?” Flynn asked, just as she turned it over, revealing that the frame that had once awkwardly held two pictures of them now contained his drawing of the two of them dancing that he had made in that other world. It fit the frame perfectly. As Eve propped it up on their desk, he said, “I thought you wanted to forget that place.”

She gathered the two photos that the drawing had displaced and propped them up against the frame, then pulled out a notepad and scrawled a note to herself to get a new, better-sized frame for them. That chore finished, she turned to face him and stood, draping her arms over his shoulders languidly. “I do want to forget Nicole’s world. But this isn’t a product of her world. It’s a product of your amazing mind trying to hold onto us despite everything.

“Well, when you put it like that...” he allowed before she closed the distance to kiss him.

After a long moment, Ezekiel’s voice called from across the room, “Eww, okay, enough already! This is why we wanted you two to go on a honeymoon.”

"Tethermoon!" Cassandra interjected yet again.

Eve slowly broke their kiss. “Still not calling it that,” she whispered against Flynn’s lips. She pulled back a bit more and said loudly enough for the others to hear, “Come on, Librarian. We promised the others we’d take the day off, and that’s exactly what we ought to do. We earned it.”  With that, she took his hand and pulled him along in her wake as she headed for the door, presumably taking them back to their apartment. “Try not to burn the place down, kids!” she called over her shoulder.

Flynn grinned stupidly at the other three Librarians as he passed them. Stone gave him a thumbs up. Ezekiel rolled his eyes. Cassandra just grinned.

At that moment, Flynn realized that the Library truly had become about more than just magic and adventure and excitement for him. It was home. It held family.  _ His _ family.  _ Their _ family. Sure, it was a dorky and weird and aggravating family, but also a wonderful and brilliant and amazing family. Whatever Flynn Carsen thought his future held when he first showed up for an interview with the Metropolitan Library fourteen years earlier, it wasn’t this.

_ Why did I fight this for so long? _ Flynn wondered. 

This was his happily ever after. 

He quickened his pace to catch up with his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming with me on this journey! This is the first fanfic I've written in probably about twenty years, and it's been great dipping my toe back in. <3


End file.
